OUT  OF  THE  WOODS 

GEORGE  P.  FISHER,  JR. 


8  3  2  E 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


OUT  OF  THE  WOODS 


OUT  OF  THE  WOODS 


A  ROMANCE  OF  CAMP  LIFE 


BY 

GEORGE  P.  FISHER,  JR. 


CHICAGO 

A.  C.  McCLURG  AND  COMPANY 
1896 


COPYRIGHT 

BY  A.  C.  McCLURG  AND  CO. 
A.  D.  1896 


PS 


THIS  LITTLE  BOOK   IS  DEDICATED  TO  THOSE  IN  WHOSE 

GENIAL   FELLOWSHIP 
I   LEARNED   TO   LOVE    THE   WOODS. 

G.  P.  F..  JR. 

CHICAGO,  JUNE,   1896. 


1S00152 


OUT  OF  THE  WOODS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ROBERT  FERRIS  lounged  on  the  window- 
seat  of  his  quarters  at  the  C Club 

finishing  his  after-dinner  cigar,  and  watched  the 
moon  as  it  rose  over  Lake  Michigan,  giving  a 
touch  of  picturesqueness  to  Chicago's  most  unat 
tractive  harbor.  He  was  perplexed,  and  the 
cause  lay  in  the  telegram  and  the  letter  which  he 
held  in  his  hand.  The  telegram,  which  was 
from  the  manager  of  the  Gloria  mine,  stated 
that  the  feeling  among  the  strikers  was  hourly 
growing  more  serious,  and  urged  him  to  come 
at  once.  The  letter  was  from  his  oldest  friend, 
Captain  Philip  Vinton,  a  retired  naval  officer, 
saying  that  on  the  next  day  he  would  reach  Chi 
cago,  where  he  was  to  join  a  party  of  friends  for 
a  month's  outing  in  the  woods  of  northern 
Michigan. 

Ferris's  father,  Edward  Ferris,  also  a  naval 
officer,  had  been  killed  in  the  early  part  of  our 
civil  war  by  the  bursting  of  a  cannon.  The  same 
7 


8  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

accident  had  nearly  cost  Vinton  his  life,  and  had 
so  affected  his  eyesight  that  when  peace  came 
and  he  wanted  to  enjoy  the  ample  fortune  that 
he  had  inherited,  he  found  no  difficulty  in  get 
ting  retired  from  active  service,  while  he  devoted 
himself  more  actively  to  his  pet  philanthropic 
scheme —  the  Sailor's  Rest  at  Lynn. 

Edward  Ferris  and  Philip  Vinton,  in  child 
hood,  had  been  like  devoted  brothers.  They  had 
dreamed  of  the  sea  together,  and  had  sailed 
their  toy  boats  in  many  a  hotly  contested  re 
gatta  on  the  fish  pond  of  the  Vinton  homestead 
at  the  foot  of  the  Kaaterskills.  Together  they 
had  hunted  for  the  hidden  treasures  of  Captain 
Kidd  and  Hendrik  Hudson,  sharing  in  their 
long  tramps  over  the  mountains  the  glory  and 
burden  of  a  time-honored  fowling-piece,  with 
which  they  vainly  hoped  to  encounter  the  twelve- 
tined  buck  that  some  seasons  before  had  been 
reported  as  seen  thereabouts.  Later  they  had 
gone  to  the  Naval  Academy,  and,  happily  for 
them,  made  together  the  long  cruise  at  the  end 
of  their  course.  Upon  their  return  each  received 
promotion,  and  then  came  their  first  long  sep 
aration,  Vinton  being  sent  to  the  South  Atlantic 
Squadron  and  Ferris  being  assigned  to  shore 
duty  at  Newport.  There  Ferris  married,  and  for 
two  years  was  the  happiest  of  men;  but  his 
young  wife  died  when  their  little  boy,  Robert, 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  9 

was  less  then  a  year  old,  and  then,  at  Vinton's 
urgent  solicitation,  he  joined  him  on  the  "  Mace 
donian  "  as  it  was  ordered  to  sail  for  Lisbon  in 
the  fall  of  1860.  Vinton's  happy  companionship 
was  a  God-send  to  poor  Ferris,  and  served,  as 
nothing  else  could  have  done,  to  lift  him  from 
the  despondency  into  which  he  had  sunk  after 
his  wife's  death. 

Robert  Ferris  inherited  from  his  father  this 
man's  devoted  friendship,  and  upon  the  death  of 
his  grandmother  while  he  was  preparing  for  col 
lege,  made  Vinton's  house  his  home.  As  he  had 
elected  to  take  the  scientific  course,  with  mining 
engineering  as  a  specialty,  his  summer  vacations 
were  spent  chiefly  in  the  mountains  of  Montana 
and  Colorado,  and  the  fine  heads  of  elk  and 
deer  that  adorned  the  hallway  of  the  club  and 
the  dining-room  of  Vinton's  home  were  ample 
proof  that  his  vacations  had  not  been  devoid  of 
sport.  Indeed,  it  needed  but  a  glance  at  the 
hunting  and  fishing  paraphernalia,  which  he 
periodically  rummaged  over,  to  show  that  he  was 
a  lover  of  the  woods.  This  was  another  bond  of 
union  between  Ferris  and  Vinton,  for  the  latter, 
although  a  wretched  rifle  shot,  was  fond  of 
shooting  and  was  a  devoted  angler.  Next  to 
going  on  a  hunting  trip  with  "  Uncle  Phil,"  as 
Ferris  had  always  called  Vinton,  there  was 
nothing  that  he  enjoyed  more  than  talking  over 


IO  OUT   OF   THE    WOODS. 

past  excursions  and  planning  new  ones  with 
him.  And  so  it  was  that  Ferris  reached  his 
decision  to  take  the  midnight  train  for  Keating, 
near  which  the  Gloria  mine  was  located,  with 
a  double  feeling  of  regret  that  he  would  miss 
meeting  his  dearest  friend,  whom  he  had  not 
seen  for  nearly  six  months,  and  would  lose  the 
chance  of  talking  over  the  prospective  camping 
trip,  and  of  selecting  with  him  from  his  own 
abundant  store  of  such  things  the  choicest  rifle 
and  the  best  assortment  of  trout  flies,  rods  and 
tackle. 

When  Ferris  had  decided  that  he  could  not 
delay  his  departure  until  Vinton  came,  he  busied 
himself  with  packing,  and  then  began  collecting 
such  things  as  he  thought  Vinton  might  need 
for  his  outing.  While  thus  occupied  there  was 
a  knock  at  his  door. 

"  Come  in,  Tom  ;  "  he  called  from  his  store 
room,  recognizing  the  familiar  rap,  and  as  Tom 
Moulton  opened  the  door  he  added  ;  "  You  are 
the  very  man  I  wanted  to  see." 

Tom  Moulton,  as  he  was  familiarly  known  to 
all  club-men,  was  a  handsome  fellow,  six  feet 
tall,  with  a  frankness  of  voice  and  manner  and 
an  endless  fund  of  good  fellowship  that  made 
him  the  most  popular  man  of  his  set. 

"I  thought  you  might  care  to  see  me,  Bob;" 
he  said,  as  he  closed  the  door  after  him  ;  "  and 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  II 

at  great  sacrifice  of  my  valuable  time  I  have 
come  up  here.  In  an  evil  moment  I  picked  up 
the  'Evening  Journal '  in  the  reading-room,  and 
my  eye  caught  these  headlines  :  '  The  great 
strike  at  the  Gloria  mine  ! '  '  Locked-out  miners 
threatening  to  destroy  the  shaft,'  etc.,  etc.  I 
said  to  myself,  'That  means  that  Bob  Ferris  will 
go  north  to-night  and  will  need  the  benefit  of 
my  valuable  advice  as  to  the  best  method  of 
quelling  a  labor  riot,  and  incidentally  my  assist 
ance  in  getting  his  affairs  in  shape  for  the 
journey.'  So  I  have  let  the  Thomas  concert  go, 
and  here  I  am,  ready  to  make  a  martyr  of  my 
self.  Give  me  a  cigar  and  tell  me  where  to  begin." 
"Help  yourself  to  a  cigar,  and  sit  down  while 
I  tell  you  how  you  really  can  be  of  assistance.  I 
have  just  had  a  letter  from  Uncle  Phil  Vinton, 
saying  that  he  will  be  here  in  the  morning  en 
route  to  northern  Michigan  where  he  is  to  take 
a  month's  shooting  and  fishing.  The  dear  old 
fellow  will  probably  bring  an  ancient  Springfield 
rifle,  a  muzzle-loading  shot-gun  and  a  dilapi 
dated  fishing  rod,  all  resurrected  from  the 
trumpery  of  his  attic,  and  a  book  of  moth-eaten 
flies,  if  he  remembers  to  bring  any,  which  I 
doubt.  You  know  that  when  he  gets  anything 
of  the  kind  worth  keeping  he  invariably  sends  it 
to  me.  Now  I  want  you  to  give  him  these 
things  I  have  laid  out.  Don't  let  him  examine 


12  OUT   OF    THE   WOODS. 

the  Winchester  too  closely,  for  if  he  sees  that  the 
calibre  is  only  forty,  he  will  scorn  it  as  a  pop 
gun,  whereas  it  is  large  enough  for  anything 
smaller  than  a  grizzly.  Insist  upon  his  taking 
this  rod,  and  if  he  thinks  it  too  light,  you  may 
invent  some  convincing  fiction,  such  as  my  hav 
ing  landed  a  tarpon  with  it  on  the  gulf  coast 
last  fall.  There  is  no  one  so  obstinate  as  an  old 
fisherman,  and  when  he  becomes  attached  to  a 
rod  he  is  apt  to  consider  it  suitable  for  any  fish 
that  swims." 

"  Can  I  use  the  same  tarpon  story  in  com 
mending  the  flies?  I  don't  wish  to  tax  my  im 
agination  too  severely." 

"  Well,  hardly.  You  need  only  show  him  his 
own,  which  he  has  probably  not  seen  since  the 
moths  began  their  depredations.  You  must  see, 
too,  that  he  takes  this  leather  vest  and  brown 
sweater,  for  the  nights  will  be  cold,  and  he  is  as 
improvident  as  the  cricket  of  the  fable.  After 
he  has  agreed  to  take  all  of  these,  you  can  show 
him  the  rest  of  the  stuff  in  my  store-room  and 
see  that  he  has  everything  he  may  need." 

"  Don't  you  think  that  you  had  better  provide 
an  old  lady  to  go  along  and  see  that  he  is  prop 
erly  wrapped  up  before  he  exposes  himself  to 
the  night  air,  and  that  the  warming-pan  is 
heated  to  the  right  temperature  before  he  goes 
to  bed?" 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  13 

"  No,  stupid.  There  are  to  be  several  women 
in  his  party,  I  understand,  and  I  will  trust  them 
to  look  after  the  domestic  arrangements." 

"  Are  they  young  or  old,  Bob  ?  " 

"  I  thought  that  would  arouse  your  interest. 
His  letter  says  there  are  to  be  two  young  ladies 
and  a  chaperon,  and  two  men  besides  himself." 

"  Do  you  think  they  would  like  an  extra  man 
—  myself,  for  instance?  You  know  I  have  never 
seen  a  deer  outside  the  Zoo,  and  you  have  often 
urged  me  to  try  an  outing  in  the  woods." 

"You  might  ask  him  when  he  comes. 
Frankly,  I  think  such  a  party  would  please  you 
well,  for  I  am  sorry  to  say,  you  have  not  the  first 
instincts  of  a  hunter.  But  the  trip  would  give 
you  a  taste  of  the  woods  without  depriving  you 
of  that  essential  to  your  existence  —  female  so 
ciety.  You  could  entertain  the  women  while  the 
other  fellows  get  the  sport." 

"Well,  I  like  that.  Can't  you  imagine  a 
camping  trip  pleasant  if  there  happen  to  be  a 
girl  in  the  party  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  I  must  imagine  the  girl,  also,  Tom, 
for  I  have  never  seen  her." 

"You  will  though  some  day,  and  when  the 
time  comes,  look  out.  For  your  sake,  old  man, 
I  trust  that  when  you  do  find  your  Diana  she 
will  recognize  in  you  one  worthy  to  follow  her 
hounds." 


14  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"  Thanks,  Tom,  but  I  shall  not  look  for  her 
— at  least  not  just  now.  Some  day  I  trust  I  may 
meet  some  honest  girl,  sound  in  body,  mind  and 
heart,  having  tastes  with  which  mine  will  har 
monize,  and  then — " 

"And  then,  you  think  that  you  will  take  the 
matter  under  advisement,  weigh  the  evidence 
carefully,  as  our  lawyers  say,  and  on  bended 
knee  offer  your  deliberate  affirmative  decision. 
Now,  my  dear  fellow,  you  will  do  nothing  of  the 
kind.  To  a  man  of  your  honesty  and  fine  feel 
ing  matrimony  doesn't  come  that  way.  If  it 
comes  to  you  at  all  —  which  I  doubt,  for  you 
see  so  little  of  women,  and  there  is  everything 
in  propinquity  —  it  will  be  a  chance,  and  a 
happy  one  I  hope.  Some  men  marry  for  com 
panionship,  but  they  are  not  of  your  tempera 
ment  or  tastes.  I  might  do  such  a  thing  when 
I  grow  old  and  cease  to  interest  the  general 
feminine  public." 

"  That  time  will  never  come,  Tom,  or  if  it 
does  you  will  never  recognize  it.  Don't  you 
want  to  ride  over  to  the  station  with  me  ?  "  he 
added,  looking  at  his  watch.  "  My  train  starts 
in  half  an  hour." 

"  Yes,  and  I  can  then  catch  the  last  half  of 
the  concert." 

On  the  way  to  the  station,  Ferris  gave 
Moulton  an  outline  of  his  plan  for  settling  the 


OUT   OF   THE    WOODS.  15 

difficulties  at  the  mines.  Not  that  he  questioned 
whether  it  would  meet  his  approval,  but  he  knew 
it  would  interest  him. 

As  they  walked  down  the  platform,  Moulton, 
with  his  arm  on  Ferris's  shoulder  and  with 
genuine  anxiety  in  his  tone,  begged  him  not  to 
rely  too  much  upon  the  fairness  of  his  men. 

"  I  had  the  misfortune,"  he  said,  "  to  be  a 
lieutenant  in  the  New  York  Seventh  during  a 
labor  riot.  Until  then  I  was  a  great  believer 
in  arbitration  ;  but  I  learned,  at  the  cost  of 
numerous  bruises,  that  it  is  foolish  to  attempt 
arbitration  with  a  mob  until  you  have  first 
thrashed  it  or  at  least  have  convinced  it  of  your 
power  to  do  so.  Don't  take  any  chances,  Bob,  for 
if  the  men  believe  that  they  have  been  wronged 
by  your  company,  they  will  be  slow  to  recognize 
that  you,  an  officer  of  the  company,  are  working 
in  their  interest.  It  would  be  poor  comfort  to 
your  friends  to  know  that  you  had  played  the 
role  of  martyr." 

The  train  started,  and  as  Moulton  watched  it 
draw  out  of  the  station  he  wished  that  he  had 
accompanied  Ferris  on  this  journey,  which  he  felt 
might  be  attended  with  danger. 

After  leaving  Ferris  at  the  station,  Moulton 
drove  to  the  Thomas  concert,  arriving  there 
just  before  the  last  intermission.  There  was  a 
retired  corner  under  one  of  the  galleries  in  the 


1 6  OUT   OF   THE    WOODS. 

old  Exposition  building,  in  which  the  concerts 
were  then  held,  well  known  to  a  few  music 
lovers,  and  to  this  he  was  hurrying  around  the 
edge  of  the  audience  when  he  saw  coming 
towards  him  his  old  class-mate,  Merrick  Whit 
ney,  accompanied  by  a  tall,  raw-boned  and 
weather-beaten  young  man  who  was  unmistak 
ably  English  or  Scotch.  Moulton  had  seen  but 
little  of  Whitney  for  several  years,  as  the  latter, 
after  leaving  college,  had  spent  four  years 
abroad  studying  chemistry,  and  on  his  return  to 
this  country  had  buried  himself  in  a  New  York 
laboratory  in  the  study  of  bacteriology  until  his 
health  became  impaired,  since  which  time  he 
had  been  looking  after  his  father's  ranch  in 
Wyoming. 

Whitney's  face  beamed  as  he  saw  Moulton, 
for  they  had  been  close  friends  in  college,  and 
grasping  his  hands  he  drew  him  behind  some 
potted  palms  and  evergreens  away  from  the 
audience.  The  Scotchman,  for  such  he  was, 
followed  at  a  little  distance  and  joined  them  as 
Whitney  was  making  Moulton  promise  to  meet 
them  at  the  club  after  the  concert. 

"  I  want  you  to  meet  my  friend,  Blake-Ken 
nedy,"  he  said,  as  the  latter  came  up,  and  added  : 
"  Kennedy,  this  is  my  old  friend,  Tom  Moul 
ton,  of  whom  you  have  heard  Helen  speak,  no 
doubt.  Moulton  has  just  promised  to  join  us 


OUT   OF   THE    WOODS.  17 

at  the  club  later  and  we  will  show  him  a  ranch 
man's  idea  of  a  late  supper.  By  the  way,  Tom, 
do  you  know  Helen  is  here  ?  You  will  find 
her  with  mother  in  that  dismal  corner  under 
the  left  gallery  near  the  stage.  You  had  better 
not  go  near  her  unless  you  are  in  tune  ;  she  has 
just  sent  us  off  because  she  said  that  we  were 
out  of  tune  and  spoiled  the  music  for  her." 

As  Moulton  approached  the  corner  he  saw 
Mrs.  Whitney  leaning  languidly  against  one  of 
the  pillars  next  to  which  she  was  sitting  and 
evidently  more  interested  in  watching  her 
daughter  than  in  listening  to  the  music.  He 
stopped  at  a  little  distance  and  watched  Helen 
too.  She  was  bending  forward  with  her  hands 
clasped  in  front  of  her,  eagerly  drinking  in  the 
music  of  the  'cello-obligato  and  altogether  un 
mindful  of  the  world  about  her.  When  the 
solo  was  finished  and  the  orchestra  took  up  the 
theme,  a  faint  smile  passed  over  her  face  and, 
drawing  a  long,  quivering  breath,  she  leaned 
back  again  in  her  chair,  listening  now  with  half- 
closed  eyes  until  the  premature  applause  broke 
the  spell,  then  passing  her  hand  across  her  face 
she  turned  and  saw  Moulton  coming  toward 
her.  There  was  genuine  pleasure  in  her  face  as 
she  greeted  him. 

"This  is  indeed  delightful,"  said  she,  "and 
how  strange  that  we  should  meet  on  the  very 


1 8  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

spot  where  we  said  good-bye  nearly  a  year  ago. 
I  looked  for  you  when  we  came  in,  for  you  care 
for  music,  while  Merrick  and  Mr.  Kennedy  do 
not,  and  mamma  does  not  hear  well  enough  to 
get  much  pleasure  from  it.  I  concluded  that 
if  you  were  here  your  friend,  Mr.  Ferris,  had 
hidden  you  in  some  spot  where  his  enjoyment 
would  not  be  disturbed  by  the  sight  of  woman. 
Does  he  shun  women  as  persistently  as  ever  ?  " 

"Woman  in  the  concrete,  yes,"  answered 
Moulton,  with  a  laugh,  "  but  for  woman  in  the 
abstract  he  still  remains,  as  our  diplomatists  say, 
'with  renewed  assurance  of  profoundest  consid 
eration.'  " 

"  Which,  in  his  case,  as  in  diplomacy,  means 
nothing.  Where  is  he  now  ?  " 

"On  his  way  to  Keating.  You  know  —  or 
perhaps  you  have  not  noticed  —  there  are  serious 
labor  troubles  at  the  Gloria  mine,  and  Ferris 
was  telegraphed  for  to-day." 

"  Then  it  is  possible  that  we  may  meet  him. 
Did  Merrick  tell  you  that  we  start  to-morrow 
night  for  an  outing  in  Northern  Michigan  ?  I 
think  our  camp  will  be  not  far  from  Keating. 
Then,  too,  we  shall  have  Captain  Vinton  with 
us,  and  if  we  are  accessible  at  all,  Mr.  Ferris  will 
have  to  come  and  see  his  uncle,  even  at  the  risk 
of  meeting  a  woman.  Don't  you  think  you  had 
better  write  or  telegraph  and  warn  him  ?" 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  IQ 

"  Now,  really,  you  do  not  understand  Fer 
ris.  He  is  not  a  woman-hater.  He  admires, 
yes,  and  absurd  as  it  sounds,  enjoys  women  as 
much  as  any  man  I  know,  but  though  appar 
ently  self-possessed  in  their  presence,  he  is 
really  ill  at  ease.  The  few  times  I  have  induced 
him  to  call  with  me  have  proven  not  only  that 
he  heartily  enjoys  their  society  but  that  he  has 
a  rare  faculty  of  making  himself  entertaining 
and  attractive  to  them." 

"  That  is  the  most  exasperating  feature  of  his 
case.  If  he  were  stupid  we  could  pardon  his 
indifference ;  or  if  he  were  a  genius  and  unin 
teresting,  as  geniuses  so  often  are,  his  utter  disre 
gard  would  give  us  no  concern  ;  but  unfortu 
nately  he  is  neither.  I  feel  that  I  am  on  most 
intimate  terms  with  your  friend,  for  you  have 
brought  him  to  see  me  twice,  which  is  double 
the  attention  he  has  shown  any  other  girl.  But 
tell  me  now,  what  have  you  been  doing  in  music 
since  I  saw  you  last  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  a  trifler,  as  ever.  I  have  done 
but  little  singing,  because  I  have  not  the  perse 
verance  to  practice  scales  and  breathing  and 
syllables  in  the  way  that  is  essential  to  success, 
and  I  am  tired  of  being  told,  as  a  supposed  com 
pliment,  that  I  really  ought  to  study.  You  will 
smile  when  I  tell  you  that  I  have  been  struggling 
with  the  banjo  at  the  rate  of  four  lessons  a  week 


2O  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

for  the  past  six  months,  and  am  getting  so  that 
I  can  play  fairly  well." 

"There  is  something  incongruous  about  a 
banjo  accompaniment  to  your  voice,  but  I  do 
not  despise  the  banjo  by  any  means,  for  it  has  a 
weirdness  and  individuality,  and  in  the  open  air 
especially  I  like  it.  Can  you  imagine  a  more 
appropriate  instrument  to  be  played  at  a  camp 
fire  in  the  heart  of  the  forest  on  an  autumn 
night?  I  wish  you  were  going  with  us." 

"  On  behalf  of  my  banjo,  thanks.  Who  are  to 
be  in  your  party?" 

"Well,  first  in  order  of  importance  is  Mrs. 
Elting." 

"  She  is  the  cook,  I  suppose." 

"  No,  this  is  not  to  be  exclusively  a  man's 
party.  Mrs.  Elting  is  the  chaperon  and  a  most 
delightful  little  woman.  Her  husband  owns  the 
lumber  mill  and  the  little  town  about  it  from 
which  our  expedition  starts,  and  in  the  winter 
they  live  in  Detroit.  Then  there  is  Miss  Seaton, 
who  is  really  the  Major-General  of  the  expedi 
tion,  as  she  organized  it  and  with  the  aid  of  dear 
old  Colonel  Elting,  who  has  furnished  everything 
in  the  way  of  camp-outfit,  has  looked  after  all 
the  details.  The  men  of  the  party  are  Captain 
Vinton,  Mr.  Kennedy  and  Merrick.  Have  you 
ever  been  camping?" 

"  Never,  and  yet  I  am  so  fond  of  the  country 


OUT   OF    THE   WOODS.  21 

that  I  cannot  imagine  a  more  delightful  way  of 
spending  a  vacation  with  an  agreeable  party." 

"  I  am  sure  our  party  must  prove  congenial. 
Miss  Seaton  and  I  have  been  together  constantly 
during  the  past  year.  We  roomed  together  in 
Berlin  last  fall  and  winter.  She  spent  July  with 
us  at  Nantucket,  and  I  have  just  come  from  vis 
iting  her  in  Detroit.  She  is  with  us  now,  but 
preferred  to  spend  this  last  evening  in  civiliza 
tion  looking  after  our  supply  lists  and  seeing 
that  we  have  everything  necessary  in  the  way  of 
rods  and  guns  and  ammunition." 

"She  must  be  a  veritable  modern  Diana," 
said  Moulton  with  a  smile. 

"  She  is  the  most  fascinating  girl  I  have  ever 
known.  She  is  not  exactly  what  would  be  called 
beautiful,  from  a  woman's  point  of  view,  although 
if  she  dressed  more  conventionally  this  might  be 
different.  Her  face  is  dark  and  her  features, 
although  small,  have  an  almost  masculine  pre 
cision.  Do  you  recall  Gerault's  picture  of  the 
'Shepherdess?'  If  so,  you  will  recognize  the 
resemblance,  when  you  see  Miss  Seaton.  She 
has  done  a  great  deal  of  hunting  and  fishing, 
and  her  home  has  many  trophies  to  attest  her 
skill  both,  with  shot-gun  and  rifle.  Ever  since 
she  was  a  child  and  until  two  years  ago  she  has 
spent  several  months  of  each  year  in  the  woods 
where  we  are  to  camp.  She  lives  with  her  uncle, 


22  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

Dr.  Burton,  and  her  aunt,  Miss  Burton,  who  is 
quite  old  and  a  confirmed  invalid.  She  is  very 
different  from  any  girl  I  ever  knew,  and  although 
a  great  student,  particularly  in  chemistry  and 
history,  she  is  most  enthusiastic  about  out-of- 
door  life  and  sports." 

"  Her  masculine  traits  evidently  attract  you." 
"  Yet  withal,  she  is  so  entirely  womanly.  Her 
room  struck  me,  I  remember,  as  so  thoroughly 
characteristic  of  herself.  The  brass  bed  with  its 
soft  white  canopy,  the  exquisite  daintiness  of  the 
white  and  gilt  furniture,  showing  the  most  deli 
cate  womanly  taste,  while  over  the  mantel  were 
the  antlers  of  a  great  buck,  and  beneath  these  a 
bamboo  rod  and  a  rifle.  The  fire-screen  was  the 
skin  of  a  loon  she  had  shot,  beautifully  mounted 
with  outspread  wings  in  a  brass  frame,  and  upon 
the  hearth  was  a  great  black  bear  skin  with  head 
and  claws  complete,  which  she  says  her  uncle 
assures  her  that  she  shot,  although  she  protests 
that  she  was  too  much  frightened  to  remember 
having  done  so.  But  you  must  come  over  to 
morrow  and  dine  with  our  party,  for  we  do  not 
start  until  9  o'clock.  Perhaps  if  you  exert  your 
self  you  can  so  impress  Miss  Seaton  that  she 
will  invite  you  to  join  us  in  the  woods.  That 
would  be  delightful.  Don't  you  really  think 
you  would  enjoy  it  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  am  sure  I  should.     I  have  never  been 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  23 

camping  but  I  have  always  loved  the  woods,  and 
I  remember  how,  as  a  small  boy,  when  we  lived 
in  the  country  near  Leamington  —  you  recall 
the  dear  place  —  my  favorite  way  of  spending  a 
holiday  was  to  get  my  chum,  Tom  Dodd  —  poor 
chap,  he  is  dead  now,  —  and  with  my  mother's 
old  plaid  shawl  and  a  well-filled  lunch  basket,  go 
off  into  the  woods  beyond  the  upper  pond.  The 
shawl  made  a  capital  tent,  and  after  we  had  filled 
our  bags  with  nuts  we  would  build  a  roaring 
camp  fire,  boil  tea  in  a  tin  pail,  tell  over  the 
stories  we  had  read  of  back-woods  life,  and  alto 
gether  feel  quite  as  if  we  were  pioneers.  Some 
times,  too,  we  were  lucky  enough  to  catch  a  few 
small  perch,  or  sun-fish,  which  we  would  take 
home  proudly,  at  the  end  of  a  very  long  string. 
How  plainly  those  days  come  back  at  the  bare 
suggestion  of  the  woods.  Yes,  I  know  I  should 
enjoy  it." 

An  hour  later  Moulton  was  given  the  oppor 
tunity  of  proving  the  sincerity  of  this  last  state 
ment.  He  drove  from  the  concert  with  the 
Whitneys,  as  their  home  was  but  a  short  distance 
from  the  Club,  and  at  Helen's  invitation  stopped 
to  be  presented  to  Miss  Seaton.  That  young 
lady  met  them  at  the  door  with  an  open  note  in 
her  hand  and  said  : 

"  Is  this  not  wretched  news,  Helen,  dear  ? 
Mr.  Kennedy  has  just  sent  me  this  note,  in  which 


24  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

he  says  that  he  has  had  a  telegram  requiring  his 
immediate  return  to  Cheyenne  and  must  take  the 
noon  train  to-morrow." 

Helen  looked  at  Moulton  and  blushed  slight 
ly  as  she  caught  his  eye  and  saw  that  he  read  her 
thought. 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  she  said,  "  for  Mr.  Ken 
nedy,  but  perhaps  we  can  find  some  self-sacrific 
ing  man  willing  to  take  his  place." 

"Shall  I  retire,"  asked  Moulton  ;  "while you 
determine  who  the  fortunate  one  shall  be  ?  " 

"Does  that  mean  that  you  wish  to  escape  ?" 
Helen  asked. 

"  Not  at  all.  Nothing  could  give  me  greater 
pleasure  than  to  be  of  your  party,  I  assure  you." 

And  so  it  was  promptly  decided  that  Moul 
ton  should  take  Kennedy's  place. 


CHAPTER  II. 

IT  was  nearly  noon  when  the  train  that  carried 
Ferris,  stopped  at  the  little  town  of  Keat 
ing.  Except  for  a  few  idle  men  lounging  on 
the  benches  and  for  John  Brent,  the  superintend 
ent  of  the  mine,  who  knew  of  his  coming,  the 
station  was  deserted,  for  this  train  stopped  only 
on  special  order  such  as  Ferris  had  obtained. 
But  in  front  of  the  "Miner's  Hotel,"  which  stood 
a  few  hundred  feet  from  the  station,  could  be 
seen  groups  of  rough  looking  men,  and  the 
coarse  shouts  and  profanity  from  the  bar-room 
showed  that  the  poor  man's  worst  enemy  —  rum 
—  was  making  its  influence  felt.  As  the  train 
slowed  up  most  of  these  men  lazily  sauntered 
toward  it. 

"  I  think,  sir,  we  had  better  get  over  to  the 
mine  as  soon  as  possible  for  the  men  are  in  an 
ugly  mood  to-day  ;  "  said  Brent,  as  he  went  to 
help  the  station  agent  with  Ferris's  trunk.  It 
required  but  a  moment  to  place  the  trunk  on  the 
back  of  the  buck-board,  but  while  Brent  was 
securing  it  the  vehicle  was  surrounded,  and  the 
25 


26  OUT    OF   THE    WOODS. 

crowd  found  courage  to  show  its  ugly  temper  in 
jeering  remarks  directed  first  at  Brent  and  then, 
emboldened  by  his  silence,  at  Ferris.  As  Brent 
took  his  seat  beside  Ferris  and  gathered  up  the 
reins,  a  maudlin  brute  stood  in  front  of  the 
horse  and  said  : 

"This  here's  the  feller  that  telegraphed  John 
Brent  to  shet  down  the  mine.  Had  n't  we  bet 
ter  give  him  a  shakin'  up  while  we  've  got  him, 
boys  ?  " 

As  he  spoke,  he  grasped  the  bridle  of  the 
horse.  The  color  came  into  Ferris's  face  as  he 
sprang  quickly  to  his  feet  and  placed  his  hand 
on  Brent's  shoulder,  for  the  latter  had  also 
started  to  rise. 

"  Keep  cool,  John,"  he  said,  in  an  undertone, 
and  in  the  few  seconds  before  he  spoke  again 
the  color  of  his  face  gave  way  to  a  fierce  pale 
ness.  In  the  sullen  faces  before  him  he  read 
the  ugly  temper  of  the  crowd,  but  though  he 
realized  how  powerless  he  and  Brent  might  be  to 
resist  their  violence,  the  thought  of  yielding 
never  entered  his  mind.  Had  he  needed  en 
couragement  he  might  have  found  it  in  the  face 
of  a  horseman  who  at  that  moment  crossed  the 
railway  track  from  the  direction  of  the  woods 
and  quickly  reined  up  a  few  feet  from  the  crowd. 
He  was  not  a  large  man,  but  broad-shouldered 
and  deep-chested,  and  he  sat  in  his  saddle  like  a 


OUT   OF   THE   WOODS.  27 

trooper.  The  resemblance,  too,  was  heightened 
by  the  cork  helmet  he  wore  and  the  rifle  that 
hung  from  the  pommel  of  his  saddle.  Ferris 
had  never  seen  him  before  but  in  the  brief 
glance  he  gave  him  he  recognized  a  friend  if 
one  were  needed. 

Looking  steadily  at  the  man  who  held  his 
horse's  bridle,  he  spoke  sharply  : 

"Stand  aside  there,  or  I  will  not  answer  for 
the  consequences,"  he  said  with  deliberation, 
but  in  a  way  and  coupled  with  a  look  that 
caused  the  man  to  obey.  Then  he  added  in  a 
scarcely  milder  tone:  "Men,  I  have  been  sent 
here  to  determine  for  the  owners  whether  the 
Gloria  Mine  shall  start  up  or  remain  idle.  You 
will  not  help  me  toward  a  decision  favorable  to 
you  by  acting  as  you  have  begun.  Drive  on, 
John." 

The  crowd  parted  to  allow  the  buck-board  to 
pass,  as  the  horse  sprang  forward  under  the 
touch  of  the  whip. 

The  Gloria  Mine  was  about  half  a  mile  from 
the  station,  but  the  road  was  dotted  with  small 
houses  nearly  all  the  way  to  the  ore  yards,  be 
yond  which  were  the  company's  store,  the  office, 
the  superintendent's  house  and  the  numerous 
other  buildings  usually  found  about  a  plant  of 
this  kind.  By  the  time  they  reached  the  office 
Brent  had  fully  outlined  the  situation  of  affairs, 


28  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

and  it  was  plain  to  Ferris  that  something  must 
be  done  at  once. 

The  strike,  which  had  now  lasted  nearly  four 
months,  was  due  to  an  order  of  the  Board  of 
Directors  reducing  the  wages  of  the  miners 
fifteen  to  twenty-five  per  cent.  Ferris  had 
opposed  this  reduction,  but  the  Gloria  stock  had 
been  so  liberally  watered  at  a  time  when  the 
demand  for  iron  ore  seemed  insatiable  by  reason 
of  the  building  of  many  new  railroads  through 
out  the  country  and  particularly  in  the  west,  that 
it  was  difficult  to  convince  the  owners  of  this 
stock  that  with  a  falling  market  thefr  dividends 
should  suffer  rather  than  the  miners'  wages. 
Before  the  meeting  of  the  directors  at  which  the 
reduction  was  ordered,  he  had  carefully  pre 
pared  a  table  of  figures  which  he  regarded  as  an 
unanswerable  argument  in  favor  of  a  dividend 
reduction,  and  such  indeed  it  should  have  been. 
But  the  soullessness  of  this  particular  corpora 
tion  was  exemplified  in  the  person  of  a  vener 
able  director,  one  Grimshaw,  who  owned  a  large 
amount  of  the  stock  and  controlled  much  more, 
as  he  did  also  in  numerous  other  corporations. 
He  did  not  attempt  to  disprove  the  facts  stated 
by  Ferris,  but  simply  ignored  them.  He  re 
minded  the  directors  that  the  stock  of  the  Gloria 
company  was  ten  million  dollars  and  that  for 
the  past  ten  years  it  had  paid  a  dividend  of 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  2Q 

eight  per  cent ;  that  while  the  demand  for  iron 
ore  had  decreased,  so  also  had  the  price  of 
food  and  clothing;  that  the  miners  were  bene 
fited  by  the  reductions  in  the  price  of  commodi 
ties,  and  that  therefore  they  could  well  afford  to 
work  at  the  reduced  scale  of  wages.  Thereupon 
it  was  declared  to  be  the  sense  of  the  board  of 
directors  that  a  reduction  of  fifteen  to  twenty- 
five  per  cent,  in  all  wages  should  be  made,  the 
manager  was  ordered  to  construct  a  new  wage 
scale,  the  usual  dividend  was  declared  and  the 
meeting  adjourned. 

No  one  knew  better  than  Ferris  the  hopeless 
ness  of  attempting  to  get  the  men  to  accept  the 
new  scale  of  wages,  for  a  like  reduction  had 
been  made  the  year  before,  and  very  nearly  re 
sulted  in  the  shutting  down  of  the  mine.  At 
that  time,  however,  the  same  wage-scale  was 
adopted  by  all  the  neighboring  mines,  and  the 
reasons  given  by  Grimshaw  were  then  used  and 
their  force  exhausted.  He  was  not  surprised, 
therefore,  when  a  telegram  from  Brent  an 
nounced  that  the  men  had  almost  unanimously 
refused  to  accept  the  company's  terms. 

But  Ferris  was  not  easily  discouraged.  When 
he  realized,  after  the  strike  had  continued  for  two 
months,  how  unreasonable  and  hopeless  it  was  to 
expect  the  men  to  return  at  the  reduced  scale, 
he  conceived  a  plan  that  offered  a  possible  solu- 


3O  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

tion  of  the  trouble.  He  represented  to  the 
directors  the  advisability  of  making  extensive 
repairs  in  the  machinery  of  the  mine  while  it 
was  idle,  and  of  introducing  certain  modern  ap 
paratus  that  would  largely  increase  its  output. 
He  did  this  with  much  doubt  as  to  its  success, 
for  when  he  had  made  the  same  proposition 
some  two  years  before,  Grimshaw  had  opposed 
him.  But  to  his  surprise  this  director  was  now 
an  earnest  advocate  of  the  improvements.  Hav 
ing  gained  this  point,  Ferris  next  revived  the 
wage  question,  and  was  allowed  to  prepare  a  new 
scale  based  upon  the  reduction,  but  with  author 
ity  to  make  a  pro  rata  advance  as  the  increased 
production  of  the  mine  might  warrant.  He  had 
long  cherished  the  plan  of  modernizing  the 
machinery  of  the  Gloria  mine,  yet  so  long  as  the 
dividends  were  satisfactory  he  was  unable  to  im 
press  upon  the  management  the  necessity  of  any 
improvement  in  the  plant.  Now  that  Grimshaw 
favored  the  plan,  he  was  able  to  carry  it  out  in 
the  most  liberal  way,  and  within  a  few  weeks  the 
new  machinery  began  to  arrive  at  the  mine 
more  rapidly  than  the  mechanics  could  put  it  in 
place. 

When  the  inhabitants  of  Keating  first  saw 
these  repairs  in  progress  they  regarded  it  as  a 
sign  that  the  company  had  decided  to  recon 
sider  its  action  and  resume  work  at  the  old  scale 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  3! 

of  wages ;  but  latterly,  as  the  repairs  neared 
completion,  a  new  rumor  had  been  started,  to  the 
effect  that  when  the  machinery  was  in  readiness 
a  full  force  of  imported  contract  laborers  would 
be  brought  to  work  the  mine.  In  vain  Brent 
denied  this  rumor,  which,  as  it  gained  credence, 
produced  an  ugly  feeling,  even  among  the  few 
men  who  had  shown  a  disposition  to  accede  to 
the  company's  offer.  Threats  of  destroying  the 
plant  were  made,  until  Brent  realized  that  unless 
some  decisive  steps  were  taken  to  allay  the  bad 
feeling,  it  must  soon  find  vent  in  some  desper 
ate  act. 

After  his  arrival  Ferris  spent  the  two  hours 
before  luncheon  in  inspecting  the  new  machin 
ery  and  repairs,  giving  occasional  directions  as 
to  slight  changes,  but,  on  the  whole,  finding 
much  satisfaction  at  the  manner  in  which  the 
work  had  been  done. 

"  I  should  scarcely  recognize  the  old  mine," 
said  he  to  Brent,  as  they  walked  toward  the 
office ;  "  and  I  believe  that  my  estimates  of  in 
crease  of  the  output,  which  I  confess  at  first 
seemed  rather  exaggerated,  will  be  exceeded  if 
the  men  have  not  .been  rendered  utterly  worth 
less  by  idleness  and  liquor." 

"  The  men  would  be  all  right,  sir,  if  you 
could  get  them  at  work  again,  but  I  am  afraid 
you  will  find  that  harder  than  you  think  for." 


32  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"  I  cannot  see  why  it  should  be.  I  can  cer 
tainly  convince  the  most  doubtful  of  them  that 
with  our  improved  plant  and  with  the  new 
tonnage  scale  of  wages,  their  pay  cannot  be  less 
than  it  was  before  the  strike,  and  it  may  be 
somewhat  more." 

"  If  you  could  get  the  men  to  listen  to  you  and 
understand  your  plan,  and  particularly  if  you 
could  make  them  see  that  you  are  working  in 
their  interest,  I  don't  question  that  you  could 
get  them  to  come  back  upon  your  terms.  But 
the  fact  is,  these  men  think  that  they  have 
been  treated  unfairly.  As  you  know,  many  of 
them  are  foreigners,  the  majority  are  stupid  and 
ignorant.  During  the  past  month,  and  partic 
ularly  during  the  past  week,  the  worst  element 
has  predominated,  and  even  the  older  and  better 
men,  who  have  heretofore  advised  patience  and 
moderation,  seem  to  offer  now  no  opposition  to 
the  incendiary  plans  of  the  hot-headed  and 
malicious." 

"They  have  not  frightened  you,  surely,  have 
they,  John  ?  "  asked  Ferris  with  a  smile. 

"  No,  sir,  they  have  not  frightened  me ;  at 
least  I  am  not  afraid  for  my  own  safety,  but  four 
years'  campaigning  has  taught  me  to  appreciate 
danger  when  I  see  it,  and  I  have  lived  long 
enough  with  these  men  to  know  their  temper. 
Only  night  before  last,  Jack  Smith,  who  has  been 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  33 

working  on  the  new  double-hoist,  ran  across  a 
gang  of  men  down  by  the  Corduroy  bridge,  as 
he  was  coming  home  from  Burton's  cabin,  and 
as  he  doesn't  stand  in  very  high  favor  with 
them,  he  hid  under  the  bridge  to  let  them  pass. 
They  stopped  on  the  bridge  just  over  him,  and 
he  heard  enough  of  their  plans  to  satisfy  him 
and  me  that  matters  were  about  as  serious  as 
they  could  well  be.  Black  Tim  was  the  leader 
of  the  gang  and  Jack  heard  him  giving  direc 
tions  to  some  of  the  others  as  to  how  they  would 
go  about  wrecking  our  plant  in  a  way  that  did 
great  credit  to  his  cunning.  Two  of  our  men 
who  were  over  at  the  Spencer  mine,  where  it  was 
supposed  they  had  gone  to  seek  work,  sent  word 
that  they  had  secured  enough  dynamite  to  blow 
our  whole  outfit  into  eternity.  The  men  moved 
on  before  Smith  could  get  further  information 
as  to  their  plans,  but  I  am  satisfied  that  the 
devil  is  in  them  and  liable  to  break  out  at  any 
minute.  While  I  was  waiting  for  your  train  at 
the  station  this  morning,  I  overheard  Tim  tell 
one  of  his  men  that  the  meeting  for  to-night 
would  be  at  9  o'clock.  Now  it  may  be  only 
iny  suspicions,  but  the  meetings  have  always 
been  held  at  7  and  I  don't  regard  the  change 
as  any  good  sign,  particularly  as  Tim  has  come 
to  be  the  principal  speaker  at  the  meetings  held 
of  late." 


34  OUT    OF   THE    WOODS. 

"  Is  there  any  one  among  the  men  from  whom 
we  can  learn  more  of  this  meeting  to-night  ?  " 
Ferris  asked  after  a  brief  silence. 

"No,  I  think  not,"  answered  Brent.  "The 
men,  as  you  know,  were  almost  unanimous  in 
calling  the  strike,  and  while  there  were  those 
who  were  willing  to  come  back  at  the  reduced 
scale,  some  of  these  have  moved  away  and  others 
have  nothing  to  say  against  the  bad  element ; 
they  are  simply  cowed.  It  is  possible,"  Brent 
added,  "  that  Dr.  Burton  might  throw  some  light 
on  the  matter,  as  he  has  been  looking  after 
some  of  the  sick  folks  lately  and  may  have  got 
an  inkling  of  what  is  going  on." 

"  Do  you  think  that  this  Dr.  Burton  would 
care  or  would  dare  to  tell  us  of  the  plans  of 
Black  Tim's  gang,  if  he  knows  anything  con 
cerning  them  ?  " 

Brent  smiled  as  he  answered  :  "  I  can't 
say  whether  he  would  care  to  tell  anything  or 
not,  but  if  he  wanted  to  do  so,  it  is  not  likely 
that  he  would  be  afraid.  He  is  a  powerful  fel 
low,  though  he  doesn't  look  it,  and  the  men 
know  it.  Two  weeks  ago  Sunday  evening,  he 
was  called  to  see  Black  Tim's  wife,  who  was  at 
the  point  of  death,  and  as  he  passed  the  hotel  on 
his  way  to  the  shanty,  he  found  Tim  drinking 
whiskey  and  told  him  he  had  better  go  home. 
Tim's  an  ugly  brute  and  a  bully,  as  you  know, 


OUT    OF   THE    WOODS.  35 

and  he  didn't  like  being  spoken  to  before  the 
men.  So  he  invited  the  doctor  to  go  to  hell. 
With  that,  Burton  jumped  off  his  horse  and  told 
him  to  defend  himself.  The  men  expected  to 
see  a  fight,  but  there  wasn't  enough  of  it  to  be 
called  that.  Tim  made  a  lunge  at  Burton  and 
that  was  the  end  of  the  fight  for  him,  for  the 
doctor  parried  the  blow  with  his  right  and 
knocked  him  down  with  his  left,  and  as  he  rose, 
knocked  him  down  again,  left  him  insensible, 
and  went  off  and  spent  the  night  at  the  bedside 
of  the  dying  woman.  No,  I  guess  he  is  not 
much  afraid." 

"  I  think  Burton  is  the  man  we  need,  and  I 
wish  that  you  would  see  that  he  gets  this  note 
at  once  ; "  and  Ferris  wrote  as  follows  : 

DEAR  DR.  BURTON: 

I  have  come  here  with  the  hope  of  settling  the 
strike  in  the  interest  of  the  men.  I  am  satisfied  that 
I  can  accomplish  nothing  unless  they  are  diverted 
from  their  immediate  plans  to  destroy  our  plant.  May 
I  not  ask  that  you  join  me  here  at  luncheon  and  aid 
us  in  reaching,  if  possible,  a  conclusion  of  this  un 
fortunate  trouble?  Sincerely  yours, 

ROBERT  FERRIS. 

"  Hadn't  I  better  just  send  word  that  he  is 
needed  and  ask  him  to  come  at  once  ? "  said 
Brent,  as  he  gave  the  note  to  a  boy,  who  had 
brought  the  mail  from  the  post-office. 


36  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"  No,  John,  that  note  will  bring  him  if  he  is 
the  man  we  want." 

The  boy  galloped  off  with  instructions  to 
give  the  note  with  all  speed  into  the  doctor's 
hands.  Burton  was  standing  in  front  of  the 
general  store  and  postoffice,  with  one  hand  on 
his  horse's  mane  and  the  other  holding  a  letter 
which  he  was  leisurely  reading.  He  glanced  at 
Ferris's  note  and  said:  "  Say  that  I  will  come  at 
once  ; "  and  then  on  second  thought  he  added: 
"  No,  say  that  I  will  come  immediately  after 
luncheon."  Then  he  crossed  to  the  hotel, 
hitched  his  horse,  and  went  into  the  bar-room, 
one  end  of  which  served  as  an  eating-room  for 
the  few  boarders  and  the  occasional  miners, 
lumbermen,  peddlers  and  others  that  might 
have  the  misfortune  and  courage  to  partake  of 
the  meals  served  by  the  Widow  Dooley,  who  was 
proprietress,  cook,  waitress,  and  general  fac 
totum  of  the  place. 

Hitherto  Burton  had  paid  but  little  attention 
to  the  conduct  of  the  striking  miners,  content 
ing  himself  with  giving  assistance  to  such  needy 
cases  as  were  brought  to  his  notice.  He  knew 
however,  that  the  men  regarded  the  manager  as 
responsible  in  great  measure  for  their  trouble 
and  hated  him  accordingly.  He  had  never  seen 
Ferris  until  his  arrival  two  hours  before,  yet 
he  liked  his  honest  resolute  face  and  be- 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  37 

lieved  whatever  might  be  his  plan  for  a  settle 
ment  of  the  strike,  it  was  at  least  worthy 
of  serious  consideration  by  the  men,  and  he 
resolved  to  give  him  such  assistance  as  might  be 
within  his  power.  He  realized  from  what  he 
had  heard  recently,  that  matters  were  nearing  a 
crisis.  As  to  just  what  that  crisis  was  to  be,  he 
had  given  little  thought.  Now  if  he  was  to  be 
of  any  assistance,  he  must  gather  some  more 
definite  information.  As  he  entered  the  hotel, 
he  found  only  a  half  dozen  men,  for  the  house 
had  now  but  very  few  boarders. 

There  was  little  conversation  during  the 
dinner,  which  consisted  of  very  old  corned  beef, 
cabbage  and  potatoes,  and  the  only  item  of  news 
that  Burton  gathered  during  the  meal  was  that 
the  superintendent  of  the  Spencer  mine  had 
been  robbed  and  beaten  the  night  before,  by  two 
masked  men,  who  disappeared  in  the  direction 
of  Keating.  After  the  dinner  one  of  the  men, 
a  young  fellow  not  over  twenty-five,  whom 
Burton  remembered  to  have  seen  and  admired 
before  he  began  to  drink,  handed  Mrs.  Dooley 
the  price  of  his  dinner  and  said  :  "  This 
squares  us  up,  Mrs.  Dooley,  and  it's  the  last  meal 
I  shall  have  with  you,  for  I  am  off  for  Marquette 
this  afternoon.  I  have  just  enough  money  left 
to  pay  my  fare,  and  if  I  stop  any  longer,  I  shall 
have  to  count  the  ties." 


38  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

Burton  was  beginning  to  despair  of  learning 
here  anything  that  might  enlighten  him  con 
cerning  the  immediate  plans  of  the  men. 

"  Let's  have  a  last  drink  all  around,  boys, 
before  Jack  goes.  The  widow  will  set  up  the 
drinks  this  time,  won't  you,  old  woman  ?  Jack's 
been  a  good  customer  of  yours  of  late  ; "  said 
one  of  the  men. 

"  If  there  is  enough  liquor  for  the  crowd,  I 
will ;  but  you  know  there  is  less  than  a  pint  of 
the  stuff  left,  and  the  new  keg  won't  get  here 
till  the  5  o'clock  express  from  Marquette." 

The  last  of  the  whisky  was  divided  into  six 
glasses,  Burton  having  declined,  and  a  parting 
health  to  Jack  Turnley  was  drunk.  The  men 
then  left  the  room  and  stood  outside  the  door 
way  waiting  to  hear  the  whistle  of  the  north 
bound  train,  which  was  about  due.  On  the  fly 
leaf  of  his  diary  Burton  hastily  wrote  a  note  to 
the  express  agent  at  Denton,  the  next  station 
north,  stating  that  the  supply  of  liquor  in  Keat 
ing  was  exhausted  and  that  there  were  reasons 
of  the  utmost  importance  why  no  more  should 
reach  the  town  that  night,  and  requesting  him  to 
detain  at  Denton  the  keg  that  had  been  shipped 
to  Mrs.  Dooley. 

As  he  finished  and  addressed  this  note,  he 
heard  a  coarse  voice  outside  the  door  and 
recognized  it  at  once  as  that  of  Tim  Finney  — 


OUT   OF   THE    WOODS.  39 

"  Black  Tim,"  as  he  was  commonly  called,  be 
cause  of  his  coarse,  black  hair,  which  almost 
met  the  heavy,  black  eyebrows  growing  straight 
across  his  forehead. 

"  You're  a  d fool,  and  a  coward,  to  leave 

us  now,  Jack ;  wait  until  after  to-night,  and  you 
can  bet  your  life  you  will  get  back  your  old  job 
at  the  mine.  We  are  all  pals  here,"  Tim  added, 
looking  around  cautiously;  "  and  I  don't  mind 
telling  you  if  you  will  keep  your  mouth  shut, 
that  we  are  going  to  learn  John  Brent  and  his 
young  boss  a  lesson  to-night  that  they  will  re 
member  for  a  while."  Then  he  added  in  a  lower 
tone  :  "  There  is  going  to  be  an  accident  at  the 
mine  to-night  and  we'll  show  him  that  they  can't 
starve  us  to  death,  and  then  run  in  a  gang  of 
nigger  miners  to  take  our  jobs." 

Burton  heard  Turnley  protest  that  if  he  staid 
until  morning,  he  would  not  have  money  enough 
to  take  him  away,  and  he  knew  from  the  man's 
tone  and  from  what  he  had  seen  of  him  before, 
that  he  did  not  altogether  favor  Tim's  method 
of  bringing  the  company  to  terms.- 

"  Damn  the  money,  boy  ;  take  this  shiner, 
and  if  things  don't  turn  out  as  I  tell  you  then 
you  can  buy  a  ticket  with  it  to-morrow." 

There  was  an  exclamation  of  surprise  from  the 
men  as  Tim  produced  a  bright  ten  dollar  gold 
piece. 


4O  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"There  is  more  where  that  came  from,  lads, 
and  I  tell  ye  the  League  will  stand  by  us  now  if 
we  show  'em  that  we  have  got  the  sand  to  do  our 
duty." 

Just  then  the  whistle  of  the  north-bound  en 
gine  sounded,  and  Burton  passed  from  the  door, 
hurried  to  the  station,  and  gave  his  note  to  the 
conductor,  who  promised  to  deliver  it  to  the 
agent  at  Denton.  The  train  moved  off  and  as 
he  returned  to  the  hotel  and  mounted  his  horse, 
he  noticed  Jack  Turnley  standing  with  a  look  of 
shame  upon  his  face,  watching  the  train  as  it 
disappeared  across  the  river  and  into  the  pines 
beyond. 

As  Burton  rode  up  to  the  office  at  the  mine, 
Ferris  met  him  and  introduced  himself. 

"  It  is  very  good  of  you  to  come,  doctor, 
and  knowing  your  interest  in  the  men,  I  am 
sure  that  I  do  not  need  to  make  excuses  for 
sending  for  you  on  a  matter  so  entirely  unpro 
fessional." 

"  Pray  don't  mention  it,  Mr.  Ferris.  I  am 
always  glad  to  respond  to  an  unprofessional  call. 
It  is  the  professional  ones  that  distress  me,  for  I 
no  longer  pretend  to  practice  medicine  and,  in 
deed,  have  not  done  so  for  many  years.  I  have 
succeeded  until  this  summer  in  concealing  from 
the  people  about  here  the  fact  that  I  am  a  physi 
cian  ;  but  when  Dr.  Jamieson  left,  he  was  unkind 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  4! 

enough  to  disclose  my  professional  identity  to  a 
chronic  patient  of  his,  and  since  then  I  have 
been  unable  to  escape.  I  assure  you  that  it  will 
be  a  most  happy  relief  to  me  when  the  men  can 
afford  to  get  Jamieson  back." 

As  they  entered  the  office,  Brent  joined  them 
and  the  three  went  to  a  room  on  the  second  floor 
where  they  would  not  be  overheard.  What 
Burton  had  learned  in  the  hour  before,  satisfied 
them  that  there  was  need  for  immediate  action. 

Ferris  explained  to  Burton,  as  briefly  as  pos 
sible,  the  repairs  that  had  been  made  at  the  mine 
and  how,  with  the  new  tonnage  scale,  the  wages 
of  the  men  must  equal  or  exceed  what  they  had 
received  before  the  strike.  Burton  readily  com 
prehended  the  plan  and  its  entire  practicability, 
but  he  appreciated  the  difficulty  at  such  a  late 
hour,  in  getting  it  before  the  men  in  a  convinc 
ing  way. 

The  conference,  which  lasted  nearly  an  hour, 
resulted  in  a  plan  by  which  Burton  and  Brent 
were  to  see  such  of  the  old  workmen  as  might 
be  reasonably  disposed,  and  induce  them  to 
attend  the  meeting  in  the  evening  and  listen  to 
the  proposition  that  Ferris  would  make.  It  was 
thought  advisable  also  that  the  meeting  should 
be  called  not  later  than  half  past  seven,  as 
the  freight  train  from  the  north  passed  at  half 
past  eight,  and  Brent  believed  that  it  might  bring 


42  OUT    OF   THE    WOODS. 

some  of  the  worst  characters  from  Denton  or  the 
mines  beyond. 

Burton  had  not  realized  until  he  undertook 
this  mission  how  many  of  the  families  in  the 
little  town  were  indebted  to  him  in  one  way  or 
another.  Many  of  the  men  were  away  from 
their  homes,  but  before  nightfall  he  had  suc 
ceeded  in  seeing  at  least  fifty  and  had  secured 
their  promise  to  attend  the  meeting.  He  let  it 
be  known  that  he  had  had  a  conference  with  the 
manager  and  had  given  his  promise  that  if  Ferris 
would  be  present,  the  men  would  accord  him  a 
fair  hearing.  Not  a  few  resented  the  suggestion 
of  having  Ferris  speak  to  them  ;  but  for  Bur 
ton's  sake,  they  promised  that  even  Ferris  should 
have  an  opportunity  to  be  heard  if  they  could 
accomplish  it.  Although  these  fifty  men  were 
but  a  small  minority  of  the  men  who  had  suffered 
from  the  strike,  yet  they  were  of  the  best,  and 
with  even  so  few  to  be  depended  upon,  Burton 
hoped  that  the  others  might  be  led. 

Nor  was  Brent  idle  during  the  afternoon,  for 
while  many  of  his  men  hated  him  as  a  servant  of 
the  company,  there  were  others,  particularly 
among  the  better  class  of  miners,  who  knew  that 
the  reduction  in  their  wages  had  been  in  the 
face  of  his  earnest  protest  and  that  he  had 
always  been  straightforward  with  them.  Not  a 
few  of  these  promised  that  they  would  do  what 


OUT    OF   THE    WOODS.  43 

they  could  to  give  Ferris  a  fair  chance  to  be 
heard.  "  But  God  help  him,  John,"  said  one  of 
these,  "if  what  he's  got  to  say  ain't  square 
and  fair ;  for  if  it  ain't,  he'll  never  get  away 
alive." 

While  Burton  and  Brent  were  thus  engaged 
in  the  town,  Ferris  took  such  measures  as  were 
possible  with  the  few  men  at  the  mine  to  protect 
the  property  if  violence  should  be  attempted. 
He  armed  the  men  that  could  certainly  be 
trusted  and  arranged  that  they  should  guard  the 
buildings  and  the  shaft,  but  the  ore  yard  was, 
unfortunately,  exposed.  It  was  of  triangular 
shape ;  on  one  side  of  it  the  river  ran,  and, 
forming  an  angle  with  the  river,  was  an  old 
shaft,  or  rather  tunnel,  that  ran  under  the  river, 
dipping  but  a  slight  distance  below  its  bed. 
The  bulk  of  the  ore  remaining  in  the  yard  lay 
in  a  giant  pile  in  this  angle ;  if  the  base  of  the 
wall  that  guarded  it  were  broken  on  one  side,  a 
great  part  of  the  ore  would  slide  into  the  river, 
and  if  a  breach  were  made  on  the  other  side,  it 
would  fall  into  the  abandoned  tunnel  and 
the  worked  out  level  below,  letting  in  the 
river,  if  its  bank  were  broken  also.  But  Fer 
ris  did  not  believe  that  this  point  which  was  so 
exposed  would  be  attacked,  and  concluded,  after 
looking  over  the  yard,  that  the  most  vulnerable 
place  was  the  switch  tracks  and  trestle  work  that 


44  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

led  across  the  river  and  into  the  yard,  and  here 
he  stationed  the  only  two  men  that  could  be 
spared  from  the  guard  of  the  buildings.  At  six 
o'clock  he  had  completed  his  work,  and  as  he 
returned  to  the  office  he  met  the  boy  who  had 
come  with  the  mail. 

"The  south-bound  express  is  late,  Willie," 
Ferris  said,  as  the  little  fellow  dismounted  from 
his  pony  with  the  mail-bag. 

"No,  sir,  the  train  was  on  time,"  the  boy 
answered  ;  "but  there  came  near  being  an  awful 
fight  at  the  depot.  Mrs.  Dooley  'spected  a  keg 
of  whiskey  on  the  train  and  it  didn't  come,  and 
she  got  a  lot  of  men  to  hold  the  train  and  search 
the  express  car  and  the  baggage  car.  The  ex 
press  agent  locked  himself  in  the  car  and  they 
busted  the  door  in  with  a  railroad  tie.  I  guess 
the  agent  thought  they  were  going  to  rob  his 
safe,  for  he  fired  into  the  crowd,  and  I  reckon 
poor  Jack  Turnley  was  hurt  bad,  'cause  the  load 
struck  him,  and  when  I  come  away  Doc  Burton 
was  picking  the  buckshot  out  of  him.  Will  you 
want  me  for  awhile,  Mr.  Ferris?  Doc  said  he 
would  like  to  have  me  at  the  hall  at  half-past 
seven." 

"  No  ;  go  and  get  your  supper,  and  do  not 
fail  to  meet  Dr.  Burton,"  answered  Ferris  as  he 
went  into  the  office. 

"  O,  I  won't,  sir ;  there's  going  to  be  an  awful 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  45 

big  meeting  at  the  hall  to-night;"  and  the  boy 
galloped  off  to  the  barn. 

After  supper  Ferris  returned  to  the  office  and 
waited  impatiently  for  some  word  from  the  town. 
Eight  o'clock  came  and  no  message  from  Burton 
or  Brent,  and  from  that  time  until  nine,  he 
walked  restlessly  in  front  of  the  office  door.  He 
had  decided  to  wait  no  longer,  and  was  just 
starting  toward  the  town  when  he  heard  the 
sharp  clatter  of  the  pony's  hoofs,  and  in  a  mo 
ment  the  mail-boy  stopped  before  him.  The 
little  fellow  was  bareheaded,  and  down  his  face 
a  quick  stream  of  blood  was  flowing  from  a 
wound  above  the  temple.  By  the  bright  moon 
light  Ferris  could  see  that  he  was  deadly  pale 
from  fright  or  loss  of  blood. 

"  Quick,  Mr.  Ferris,"  he  said  faintly,  holding 
fast  to  the  pommel  of  his  saddle,  "  they  want 
you  at  the  hall.  Black  Tim  and  his  men  are 
coming  up  the  river  road.  O,  stop  them,  Mr. 
Ferris,  or  they  will  do  something  awful,  for 
they've  got  two  great  cans  of  powder." 

He  tried  to  dismount,  but  would  have  fallen 
had  not  Ferris  caught  him.  Taking  the  child 
in  his  arms,  he  ran  with  him  to  Brent's  house, 
where  Mrs.  Brent,  hearing  his  step  upon  the 
porch,  met  them  at  the  door.  Ferris  laid  the 
child  on  the  lounge,  and  pressing  together  the 
wound,  checked  the  loss  of  blood. 


46  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"  Hurry,  hurry,  Mr.  Ferris ;  they  are  coming. 
Don't  you  hear  them?  Don't  you  hear  them? 
O,  sir,  don't  mind  me.  I — I — ;"  and  the  little 
voice  was  silent. 

"  You  need  not  wait,  Mr.  Ferris ;  I  will  look 
after  Willie,"  said  Mrs.  Brent ;  and  Ferris,  know 
ing  that  no  care  that  he  might  give  could  add 
to  her  motherly  tenderness,  hurried  from  the 
house. 

As  he  passed  the  engine  house  he  ordered 
Pat,  the  faithful  old  fireman  stationed  there,  to 
come  with  him,  and  the  two  ran  along  the  side 
of  the  ore  yard  toward  the  road  up  which  he 
knew  that  Tim  and  his  men  must  come.  At  the 
end  of  the  yard  they  stopped,  and,  looking  cau 
tiously  around  the  corner  of  the  great  pile  past 
which  the  road  ran,  Ferris  saw  the  crowd  of  van 
dals  moving  rapidly  toward  them. 

"Stand  close  to  the  wall,  Pat,"  he  said.  "Be 
ready  to  shoot,  but  do  n't  fire  until  I  tell  you.  If 
we  have  to  fire,  don't  shoot  at  Tim.  I  will  take 
care  of  him.  Steady  now ;  they're  almost  here." 

The  tramp  of  heavy  feet  on  the  hard  road 
could  now  be  plainly  heard  as  they  neared  the 
corner  of  the  pile. 

"Give  me  the  big  can  and  a  fuse,  Dutchy," 
they  heard  Tim  say,  as  they  stopped  a  moment, 
now  less  than  thirty  feet  away.  "I'll  plant  it 
around  the  corner  by  the  mouth  of  the  old  tun- 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  47 

nel,  and  the  other  we'll  put  under  this  end  of 
the  trestle  bridge.  They'll  think  hell's  busted 
when  they  both  go  off." 

Ferris  knew,  from  this  move,  that  Tim  was 
not  expecting  opposition  or  he  would  not  have 
cumbered  himself  with  the  dynamite  can,  but 
would  have  left  his  hands  free  to  use  his  revolver, 
which  he  always  carried.  In  a  moment  they 
moved  forward  again.  As  they  reached  the  cor 
ner  Ferris  stepped  quickly  in  front  of  them  and 
thrust  his  revolver  into  Tim's  face,  while  Pat 
covered  with  his  rifle  the  men  who  closely  fol 
lowed  their  leader. 

"Hold  on  to  that  can  with  both  hands,"  Ferris 
said  sharply,  as  Tim  leaned  over  to  place  the 
can  upon  the  ground.  "Pat,  shoot  the  first  man 
that  moves  a  hand." 

There  were  six  men  in  the  party,  and  for  an 
instant  Ferris  was  at  a  loss  to  determine  his  next 
move ;  then  he  asked : 

"  Pat,  do  you  know  these  men  ?  " 
"Sure,  sor,  every  mother's  son  of  thim,  and 
a  bad  lot  they  be,  sor,"  Pat  replied. 

"Do  they  all  belong  here?" 

"  Saving  the  two  Murpheys  and  Dutchy,  what 
belongs  in  Denton,  and  the  scum  of  the  town 
they  be,  sor.  The  Murpheys  are  the  lads  with 
their  caps  drawed  down  over  their  eyes  ;  and 
Dutchy 's  the  ugly  devil  I  'm  holding  me  gun 


48  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

on ;   and   I  'd  thank  ye,   sor,   for  the  order  to 
shoot." 

Looking  at  them,  but  still  covering  Tim  with 
his  revolver,  Ferris  said :  "I  will  give  you  three 
men  just  two  minutes  to  get  out  of  rifle  range. 
Take  the  Denton  road  and  lose  no  time  about 
it.  Run." 

They  needed  no  second  order,  and  in  a  few 
moments  had  disappeared  in  the  pines  through 
which  the  road  led.  Ferris  then  ordered  Tim 
and  the  other  man  who  carried  the  dynamite 
cans,  to  place  them  on  their  heads,  and  hold 
them  there  with  both  hands. 

"Search  this  man,  Pat,  and  if  he  or  either  of 
the  others  makes  a  move,  it  will  be  his  last." 

In  a  moment  Pat  had  taken  from  Tim's  hip 
pocket  a  heavy  revolver,  and  in  his  search  found 
a  massive  gold  watch. 

"That 's  a  fine  watch  for  the  likes  of  ye  to 
be  carrying  ;  and  I  suppose  it's  your  mone- 
gram  that's  marked  on  the  back,"  he  added,  as 
he  held  it  up  to  the  moonlight. 

Tim's  massive  frame  trembled  and  his  face 
grew  pale. 

"Pat,  put  that  back,"  he  said  fiercely,  "or  by 
hell,  I'll  kill  ye.  'Twas  give  to  me  by  a  gentle 
man  and  it's  mine." 

"And  the  gent's  dead  now,  I  suppose." 


OUT    OF   THE    WOODS.  49 

"Put  back  the  watch,  Pat,  and  keep  the  re 
volver,"  said  Ferris.  "  Now  search  the  others." 

But  neither  of  these  was  armed. 

"  Now  we  will  go  to  the  town  hall,"  was  Fer- 
ris's  next  order.  "  Move  on  and  be  quick  about 
it." 

With  Tim  and  his  companions  in  the  ad 
vance,  and  Ferris  and  Pat  following  about 
twenty  feet  distant,  they  moved  at  a  quick  gait 
toward  the  main  part  of  the  town.  When  with 
in  a  few  hundred  feet  of  the  hall,  Ferris  met 
Brent  coming  rapidly  toward  them.  He  saw 
the  situation  at  a  glance. 

"In  heaven's  name,  Mr.  Ferris,  where  did 
you  catch  these  devils  ?  But  leave  them  to  me 
and  get  to  the  hall  as  fast  as  possible,  for  Burton 
cannot  hold  the  men  ten  minutes  longer." 

Ferris  put  up  his  revolver  and  ran.  As  he 
neared  the  hall,  he  could  hear  Burton's  voice 
above  the  din,  for  it  was  evident  that  his  hearers 
had  become  impatient. 

"  I  promise  you,  men,  that  he  will  be  here  in 
ten  minutes,  if  he  has  not  been  murdered  on 
the  road,"  were  the  words  that  greeted  him  as 
he  rushed  into  the  open  doorway.  And,  al 
though  he  was  not  conscious  of  it,  his  appear 
ance  indicated  that  probably  he  had  narrowly 
escaped  the  fate  Burton  had  suggested,  for  his 


5O  OUT   OF    THE    WOODS. 

collar  and  shirt  had  been  stained  with  the  blood 
of  the  mail-boy  as  he  carried  him  in  his  arms. 

Instantty  all  was  silent.  Burton  was  standing 
on  the  low  platform  at  the  end  of  the  hall,  and 
seeing  Ferris  enter,  called :  "  This  way,  Mr. 
Ferris,"  in  a  tone  of  exultation.  But  as  Ferris 
approached  he  saw  the  blood  stains  and  his 
voice  changed. 

"My  God,  have  they  tried  to  kill  you  ?"  he 
asked  anxiously.  "  Are  you  badly  hurt  ?  " 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  Ferris  noticed  the 
blood  upon  his  clothing  and  remembered  the 
little  fellow  whose  life  had  perhaps  already 
passed  away.  He  paused  an  instant  as  he 
stepped  to  the  platform  and  turned  toward  the 
men  ;  but  in  that  instant  he  saw  in  many  of 
these  rough  faces  a  look  of  interest  or  rather, 
anxiety, —  such  as  the  sight  of  unjust  human 
suffering  will  bring  to  men  who  at  heart  are  just, 
even  if  that  suffering  be  in  those  they  hate. 

"  Men,"  he  began  with  suppressed  emotion, 
"  these  stains  are  from  the  blood  of  a  little  child, 
whom  but  a  short  time  ago  you  sent  to  bring 
me  to  this  hall.  The  faithful  boy  delivered 
your  message,  but  he  was  waylaid  and  beaten, 
and  it  may  be  by  this  time  that  he  has  passed  to 
his  reward.  I  carried  him  in  my  arms." 

Cries  of  "  Shame,  shame.  Who  did  it  ? 
Lynch  them,"  came  from  all  parts  of  the  hall. 


OUT   OF   THE    WOODS.  51 

Then  Ferris  told  briefly  and  simply  the  occur 
rences  of  the  preceding  half  hour,  and  it  was 
plain  that  the  majority  did  not  favor  such  prac 
tical  application  of  brute  force,  however  they 
may  have  approved  of  it  in  theory. 

"But,"  he  proceeded,  "  it  is  not  to  tell  you 
of  these  things  that  I  am  here  to-night.  I  am 
here  to  consider  with  you  the  unfortunate  situa 
tion,  and  with  you  to  determine  how  it  may  best 
be  ended." 

The  changes  and  improvements  in  the  plant 
were  then  explained  at  length  and  the  possibili 
ties  of  a  largely  increased  output  were  demon 
strated  to  a  certainty.  It  was  shown  how,  with 
a  tonnage  scale  of  wages,  the  pay  of  the  men 
would,  in  all  probability,  equal,  if  it  did  not  ex 
ceed,  that  received  before  the  strike. 

In  conclusion  he  said  :  "  I  know  that  many 
of  you  hold  me  responsible  for  the  suffering  that 
has  come  to  you  during  the  past  four  months, 
I  can  only  tell  you  that  I  am  not.  But  how 
ever  you  may  feel  toward  me,  I  want  you  to  con 
sider  carefully,  before  you  decide  to-night,  the 
facts  I  have  stated,  and  realize  that  the  responsi 
bility  is  now  with  you  to  determine  whether  the 
Gloria  mine  shall  remain  shut  down,  or  pros 
perity  shall  come  again  to  this  town.  If  you  have 
no  questions  to  ask  me  that  will  make  the  matter 
plainer,  I  will  go  and  leave  you  to  decide  what 


52  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

you  think  is  for  your  best  interest.  Should  you 
conclude  to  return  to  work,  we  will  start  up  day 
after  to-morrow.  Good-night." 

There  was  a  slight  murmur  of  approval,  as 
Ferris  and  Burton  walked  down  the  hall,  and  as 
they  passed  out  the  door  Burton  said:  "Mr. 
Ferris,  I  congratulate  you,  for  you  have  won." 

"  Thank  you,  doctor,  but  without  your  help 
I  fear  it  would  have  been  otherwise." 

As  they  returned  to  the  mine  Burton  gave 
Ferris  a  brief  account  of  his  afternoon  and  even 
ing's  work. 

"  But,"  he  said,  as  they  neared  Brent's  house, 
where  Burton  wished  to  see  the  injured  child, 
"  I  have  been  well  repaid,  for  this  has  been  the 
most  instructive  day  of  my  life.  Most  of  our 
lessons  in  the  intense  of  human  passion  are 
learned  from  books,  where  the  facts  are  largely 
the  creatures  of  the  imagination.  To-day  I  have 
had  a  lesson  in  realism  that  has  run  the  gamut 
of  every  passion." 

"  Except  love,"  Ferris  added  rather  sarcas 
tically. 

"  No,  I  have  had  a  glimpse  of  that,  too.  It 
lasted  but  a  moment,  but  it  was  real.  While  I  was 
dressing  Turnley's  wounds,  a  young  woman  — 
so  young  that  I  thought  her  a  mere  child,  at 
first  glance  —  stood  very  near  to  me.  I  was  at 
tracted  by  the  pallor  of  her  face,  and  as  I 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  53 

glanced  at  times  from  my  work,  I  could  see 
that  she  was  laboring  under  intense  emotion. 
Her  hands  were  clasped  tightly  across  her 
breast  and  her  lips  quivered.  Several  times  I 
found  it  necessary  to  use  the  knife  rather 
severely,  and  each  tremor  of  pain  had  its  reflex 
in  her  face.  As  I  finished  my  work  the  poor 
fellow  began  to  lose  consciousness  and  talked 
incoherently.  The  woman  leaned  forward  to 
catch  each  faint  word,  though  it  was  plain  she 
was  striving  to  conceal  from  the  crowd  her 
heart's  secret.  But  in  vain.  I  heard  my  patient 
call,  '  Molly.'  Instantly  the  woman  was  on 
her  knees  at  his  side.  '  Yes,  yes,  Jack,  I  am 
here,  darlin','  was  all  she  said,  yet  the  touch  of 
her  hand,  roughened  by  hard  work,  but  softened 
by  love,  will  do  more  to  win  Jack  Turnley  back 
to  life  than  all  my  surgery  !  " 


CHAPTER  III. 

WHEN  Captain  Vinton  reached  Chicago 
on  the  morning  after  Ferris's  departure 
he  found  Moulton  awaiting  him  at  the  railway 
station.  The  latter,  after  leaving  the  Whitneys 
the  night  before,  had  spent  some  hours  in  pack 
ing  his  bags  and,  with  the  aid  of  a  book  enti 
tled,  "  How  to  Camp  Out,"  had  made  a  list  of 
the  things  that  he  thought  might  be  needed  for 
his  outing.  As  he  read  these  off  to  Vinton 
after  they  had  gone  to  Ferris's  rooms,  the  old 
fellow  fairly  shook  with  laughter. 

"  My  dear  boy,"  he  said,  when  Moulton  had 
finished,  "  throw  the  list  away,  I  beg  of  you.  It 
may  be  all  right  for  camping  on  Lake  George 
and  in  proximity  to  a  summer  hotel,  but  for 
Northern  Michigan  such  impedimenta  would  be 
the  veriest  rubbish.  Throw  out  the  percale 
shirts  and  the  whisk  broom  and  the  blacking 
brush  and  the  wash  ties.  In  fact,  throw  the 
whole  thing  away  and  I  will  tell  you  what  to 
take." 

And  Moulton  found  that  from  his  wardrobe 
and  Ferris's  store  room  he  was  able  to  supply  all 
54 


OUT    OF   THE    WOODS.  55 

that  Vinton  deemed  necessary  and  much  more, 
and  when  he  had  re-packed  his  bags  he  still  had 
ample  room  for  the  things  that  Ferris  had  left 
for  Vinton,  but  which  the  latter  declined  to  be 
"  bothered  with." 

In  the  evening  they  dined  at  the  Whitneys, 
and  there  Moulton  learned  from  Miss  Seaton 
more  definitely  the  location  of  the  camp,  and  was 
delighted  to  discover  that  it  was  only  twenty 
miles  from  Keating. 

"  I  will  drop  a  line  to  Ferris  before  we  go," 
he  said  ;  "  and  with  your  permission  will  urge 
him  to  spend  a  day  with  us  before  he  returns  to 
the  city." 

"And  I  will  add  a  postscript,"  said  Vinton, 
"  for  I  am  most  anxious  to  see  him.  We  have 
not  in  years  been  separated  so  long  a  time  be 
fore." 

"  But  pray  do  not  restrict  his  visit  to  one 
day,"  Miss  Seaton  said  ;  "  for  although  from 
Keating  to  Round  Lake  is  only  twenty  miles  by 
the  map,  the  trail  is  not  a  good  one,  and  whether 
the  distance  be  covered  on  foot  or  by  the  river, 
it  means  at  least  one  day's  hard  travel.  My 
uncle,  Dr.  Burton,  has  a  cabin  eight  miles  from 
Keating,  and  it  would  be  well  for  Mr.  Ferris  to 
break  the  journey  by  stopping  with  him.  Men 
tion  this  in  your  note,  for  I  can  assure  you  that 
Uncle  Tom  will  welcome  him  most  warmly." 


56  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

And  so  before  starting  for  the  train,  Moulton 
mailed  his  letter  to  Ferris,  with  a  succession  of 
postscripts  by  Vinton,  Whitney,  and  Helen. 

When  Escanaba  was  reached  early  the  next 
morning,  the  party  went  at  once  from  the  station 
to  Colonel  Elting's  tug  boat,  on  the  deck  of 
which  breakfast  was  served  as  they  steamed  out 
of  the  harbor.  In  a  direct  line  the  little  town  of 
Sturgeon,  where  the  lumber  mill  was  located  and 
from  which  wagons  were  to  take  the  campers 
into  the  woods,  was  distant  from  Escanaba  only 
fifteen  miles,  but  by  water  the  wide  circuit 
around  Squaw  Point  added  six  more,  and  it 
was  eleven  o'clock  before  they  ran  beneath  the 
tall  piles  of  lumber  on  the  docks  and  heard  the 
welcoming  blast  from  the  steam  whistle  of  the 
mill. 

There  is  something  fascinating  about  a  mod 
ern  saw-mill,  even  to  one  not  familiar  with 
machinery.  The  mechanism  is  so  wonderfully 
rapid  and  precise,  and  yet  so  simple  and  exposed 
that  anyone  can  readily  see  how  perfectly  the 
vast  power  of  the  steam  engine  is  made  re 
sponsive  to  the  human  hand.  And  what  better 
instance  of  practical  agility  can  be  found  than 
that  shown  by  yonder  tall,  lank  fellow  in  a  red 
flannel  shirt,  with  trousers  tucked  into  his  red 
woolen  socks,  who,  with  pike-pole  in  hand, 
lightly  steps  from  log  to  log  as  they  bob  and 


OUT   OF   THE    WOODS.  57 

turn  in  the  water  beneath  his  weight?  Notice 
with  what  consummate  skill  he  selects  the  desired 
log,  and,  standing  erect,  rides  it  to  the  elevator 
chains  that  run  it  up  the  incline  to  the  log- 
deck,  where  iron  arms  throw  it  upon  the  car 
riage.  Then,  too,  there  is  an  excitement  in 
watching  the  sawyer  holding  fast  to  the  lever  of 
the  carriage  as  it  dashes  the  log  into  the  path  of 
the  spinning  saw-blade,  changing  its  idle  hum  to 
a  fierce  shriek,  and  then  rushes  back  for  a  new 
charge,  pausing  only  long  enough  to  permit 
fingers  of  steel  quickly  to  turn  the  log  or  set  it 
forward. 

"Modern  invention  has  wrought  wonderful 
changes  in  the  saw-mill,  has  it  not?  "  said  Vin- 
ton  to  Colonel  Elting,  as  they  walked  up  the 
quarter-mile  of  saw-dust  road  that  led  from  the 
mill  to  the  town. 

"Indeed,  it  has,"  he  answered.  "  When  I  was 
a  boy  my  father  had  a  lumber  mill  down  in 
Maine.  It  was  driven  by  water-power,  and  had 
a  single  muley  saw.  When  the  log  was  once 
set  it  was  simply  a  question  of  time  when  the 
carriage  would  reach  the  end  of  the  track.  With 
the  machinery  you  have  just  seen  I  cut  more 
lumber  in  a  day  than  the  old  mill  could  cut  in  a 
year." 

After  a  short  rest  and  a  hearty  luncheon,  the 
start  for  the  woods  was  made  in  two  buck- 


58  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

boards,  with  a  light  wagon  to  carry  the  luggage. 
The  country  for  the  first  five  miles  of  the  jour 
ney  was  covered  with  a  second  growth  of  pine  or 
small  hardwood,  and  except  for  occasional 
glimpses  of  the  river  along  which  the  wagon 
road  ran,  the  view  was  altogether  uninteresting. 
Then,  after  a  half  mile  of  "  corduroy "  road 
through  a  tamarack  swamp,  they  passed  on  to  a 
hardwood  ridge,  and  the  beauty  of  the  northern 
woods  began  to  unfold  itself. 

Miss  Seaton  had  made  the  journey  many 
times  before,  and  watched  with  amusement  the 
expression  of  disappointment  that  had  settled 
upon  her  companions  during  the  first  tedious 
hour's  ride  disappear  as  they  went  at  a  brisk  trot 
along  the  stretches  of  good  road  beneath  inter 
lacing  branches  of  maple  and  beech  and  elm 
that  protected  them  from  the  heat  of  the  Sep 
tember  sun. 

"  This  is  really  beautiful,  Madge,"  said 
Helen,  after  a  half  hour's  drive  had  begun  to 
give  her  some  assurance  that  the  change  of 
scenery  was  permanent.  "Will  it  be  like  this  all 
the  way  to  camp  ?  " 

"Yes,  with  only  an  occasional  uninteresting 
spot  to  emphasize  the  beauty  of  the  rest.  We 
will  stop  fora  half  hour  at  the  first  rapids,  which 
we  should  reach  very  soon,  and  perhaps  I  can 


OUT   OF   THE   WOODS.  59 

initiate  you  into  the  blessed  mystery  of  trout 
fishing,  if  we  can  conveniently  get  some  flies  and 
a  line." 

"I  have  those  in  the  top  of  my  hand  bag. 
You  know  Mr.  Kennedy  sent  me  his  fly-book 
and  reel,  poor  fellow;"  and,  finding  the  bag  be 
neath  the  seat,  Helen  gave  the  reel  and  book  to 
Madge,  who  selected  a  cast  of  sombre  color. 

The  rapids  at  which  the  stop  was  made  were 
at  a  sharp  bend  of  the  river,  the  bed  of  which 
was  filled  for  a  hundred  yards  or  more  with  a 
mass  of  rocks  which  the  persistent  stream  had 
cut  from  the  steep  bank.  Over  and  around 
these  the  water  rushed  and  whirled  in  its  noisy 
haste  to  reach  the  placid  current  below.  Quickly 
jointing  her  rod,  Madge  took  Helen  down 
stream  a  short  distance  to  a  point  where  the 
descent  to  the  water  was  easy,  while  Moulton 
stood  on  the  bank  watching  them  and  struggling 
with  a  new  pipe  which  Vinton  had  assured  him 
better  harmonized  with  the  woods  than  did  a 
cigar.  He  had  just  abandoned  the  undertaking 
and  lighted  a  cigar,  when  Vinton  joined  him. 

"I  find,  Captain,"  he  said,  "that  anatom 
ically  I  am  unfitted  for  smoking  a  pipe.  One 
really  needs  a  leather  tongue,  a  cast  iron  stom 
ach,  and  infinite  lung  power  to  do  it  with  any 
degree  of  success  or  satisfaction.  Watch  those 


60  OUT    OF   THE    WOODS. 

girls,"  he  added,  pointing  to  Helen  and  Madge  ; 
"they  are  very  picturesque,  but  have  you  an  idea 
that  they  will  catch  anything  ?  " 

"  I  have  great  confidence  in  Miss  Seaton's 
skill  with  the  rod,  yet  I  confess  that  in  this 
strong  sunlight  I  should  not  look  for  success." 

Scarcely  had  he  spoken,  however,  when 
Madge  was  seen  cautiously  to  cast  down  stream 
in  such  manner  that  her  flies  were  whirled  into 
a  little  pool  near  the  shore  and  beneath  the  deep 
shadow  of  an  overhanging  beech  tree.  Along 
the  surface  of  the  water  the  flies  were  skipped 
back  only  to  be  cast  again  nearer  to  the  shore 
and  this  time  there  was  a  quick  response  and  the 
light  rod  doubled  as  the  trout  darted  into  mid 
stream.  In  an  instant  Vinton  was  all  excitement. 

"Why  doesn't  she  pull  him  in  ?"  said  Moul- 
ton,  impatiently,  as  he  watched  the  line  reeled 
slowly  in  and  allowed  to  run  out  again  whenever 
the  fish  made  a  fresh  dash  for  freedom. 

"  Experience  will  teach  you  the  reason  better 
than  any  words."  Vinton  replied. 

Madge  had  stepped  from  the  shore  onto  a 
flat  boulder  in  the  stream  and  now  swung  the 
line  within  reach  of  Helen,  who  by  a  vigorous 
jerk  landed  the  exhausted  trout  high  amid  the 
bushes  on  the  bank.  Disentangling  the  line, 
Helen  now  tried  her  skill  and  after  several  fail 
ures  was  rewarded  with  two  smaller  fish  and 


OUT    OF   THE    WOODS.  6 1 

finally  with  one  "two-pounder"  (actual  weight 
one  pound  and  a  quarter),  that  revenged  itself 
by  breaking  the  tip  of  the  rod. 

An  hour  more  of  easy  driving  and  a  short 
detour  from  the  main  road,  brought  the  party  in 
sight  of  Round  Lake  at  its  eastern  side  and 
nearly  opposite  the  camp.  The  sun  was  just 
sinking  behind  the  great  trees,  in  the  shadow  of 
which  the  white  tents  and  a  single  cabin  could 
be  dimly  seen.  At  no  time  of  day  is  a  wood's 
lake  so  gorgeously  beautiful  as  at  sunset,  when 
the  quiet  water  mirrors  the  glory  of  the  heavens 
above  and  reflects  in  perfect  outline  the  trees 
that  border  the  shore ;  and  to  the  traveler, 
wearied  with  a  long  day's  journey,  the  sight  of 
camp  with  its  slender  thread  of  smoke  rising  to 
dissipate  itself  in  the  overhanging  branches  is  as 
welcome  as  was  the  vision  of  Canaan  to  the 
children  of  Israel. 

Around  the  edge  of  the  lake  was  a  newly 
made  road  —  if  the  mere  cutting  out  of  the  trees 
could  be  dignified  with  that  name  —  which  was 
so  rough  that  a  walk  along  the  hard  sandy  beach 
was  thought  by  all  preferable.  As  they  started 
thus  the  sharp  blows  of  an  axe  could  be  heard 
echoing  around  the  shore,  notwithstanding  the 
lake  was  nearly  a  mile  in  width.  Presently  these 
sounds  ceased  and  a  canoe  was  seen  to  put  out 
from  the  shore  with  a  single  figure  kneeling  in 


62  OUT   OF    THE    WOODS. 

it  and  driving  it  rapidly  toward  them  with  swift 
strokes  of  his  paddle. 

"That  is  Charley,  our  Indian,"  said  Madge, 
after  watching  him  a  moment.  "  How  beautifully 
he  handles  a  canoe.  He  has  only  one  superior 
in  these  woods.  That  is  his  brother  Joe,  my 
Uncle's  man." 

"Have  you  had  him  as  a  guide  before?" 
Vinton  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes,  many  times.  Both  he  and  his 
brother  are  devoted  to  Uncle  Tom  and  are  with 
him  always  when  he  is  in  the  woods.  In  the 
winter  and  spring  they  live  with  their  families  in 
the  little  Indian  village  near  Sturgeon." 

As  she  finished  speaking  Madge  gave  a  loud, 
peculiar  call,  which  the  Indian  evidently  recog 
nized,  for  his  answer  came  almost  like  an  echo. 
A  few  minutes  later  the  canoe  neared  the  beach 
in  front  of  them,  and  stepping  into  the  water, 
Charley  drew  the  boat  ashore.  He  was  above 
the  average  height,  straight  as  an  arrow,  and  ex 
cept  for  his  complexion,  might  have  passed  for 
a  full-blooded  Indian  instead  of  a  half-breed. 
His  delight  at  seeing  Madge  again  was  un 
mistakable  and  he  grasped  her  hand  warmly 
while  she  spoke  a  few  words  to  him  in  Chippewa. 
As  he  was  presented  to  the  others  he  simply  said, 
"Howdy,"  nodding  his  head  to  each.  The 
canoe  was  a  "  dug-out,"  but  a  perfect  specimen 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  63 

of  the  Indian's  handiwork,  light  and  safe  enough 
if  one  sat  very  still. 

"Won't  you  take  Mrs.  Elting  and  Helen  to 
the  camp  in  the  canoe,  Mr.  Moulton  ?  "  Madge 
asked.  "It  will  easily  carry  three." 

Moulton  looked  at  the  slender  craft  and 
shook  his  head. 

"Thank  you,  Miss  Seaton,  but  I  fear  it  would 
be  too  risky.  If  it  were  fitted  with  outriggers 
and  a  pair  of  oars  I  could  confidently  manage 
it.  With  the  paddle  I  am  an  utter  novice." 

As  Vinton  also  expressed  a  preference  for 
terra  firma,  Madge  volunteered  to  take  Mrs. 
Elting  and  Helen  over,  and  with  evident  mis 
givings  they  consented  to  go. 

Charley  pushed  the  canoe  from  shore,  with 
Helen  in  the  bow  and  Madge  kneeling  in  the 
stern,  and  after  watching  them  a  moment  he 
turned  to  Vinton,  and  said  :  "  Madge  paddle 
canoe  like  Injun.  Joe  and  me  teach  her  years 
ago." 

The  camp  was  soon  reached  and  the  tents 
were  found  pitched  on  the  bluff  some  thirty  feet 
above  the  water's  edge.  At  this  point  the  tim 
ber  was  free  from  underbrush  and  consisted 
mainly  of  maple,  beech  and  hemlock,  with  here 
and  there  a  pine  that  towered  above  the  sur 
rounding  foliage.  The  cabin  of  rough  hewn 
logs  stood  about  a  hundred  feet  from  the  edge 


64  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

of  the  bluff  and  on  one  side  of  it  were  pitched 
a  small  tent  for  Vinton  and  a  larger  one  for 
Whitney  and  Moulton,  while  on  the  opposite 
side  were  the  tent  for  Mrs.  Elting,  Madge  and 
Helen,  the  dining  tent  (somewhat  nearer  the 
lake),  the  cook  tent  and  the  sleeping  tent  for  the 
cook  and  guide.  The  cabin  itself  had  been 
reserved  as  a  general  living  room  and  as  a  sleep 
ing  room  for  the  ladies  in  event  the  weather 
proved  very  bad.  Down  the  face  of  the  bluff 
ran  a  flight  of  steps  to  the  beach,  and  at  this 
point  several  logs  had  been  staked  in  the  shal 
low  water  to  serve  as  a  landing  for  the  fleet, 
which  consisted  of  two  canoes  and  a  cedar  boat 
fitted  with  oars. 

When  the  men  reached  the  camp  they  found 
Madge  and  Helen  seated  on  a  bench  at  the  edge 
of  the  bluff  and  in  front  of  a  goodly  pile  of 
wood  that  had  been  laid  in  readiness  for  the 
first  camp  fire. 

"Did  you  ever  imagine  anything  more  beauti 
ful  and  comfortable  than  this  ?  "  said  Helen  to 
Vinton,  as  she  and  Madge  walked  with  him  from 
one  tent  to  another.  "I  had  supposed  that  we 
were  to  sleep  on  hemlock  boughs  and  dine  off 
tin  plates  and  depend  for  our  cooking  upon 
an  open  fire  and  a  frying  pan.  But,  thanks  to 
Madge  and  Colonel  Elting,  we  have  comfortable 
beds  to  rest  our  weary  bodies  and  clean  white 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  65 

dishes  and  a  regular  kitchen  stove.  This  is  in 
deed  luxury  in  the  heart  of  the  wilderness." 

"  Do  you  approve  of  it,  Captain  ? "  Madge 
asked.  "Or  are  you  one  of  those  veteran  camp 
ers  who  scorn  all  suggestion  of  civilization  when 
they  come  into  the  woods  ?  " 

"  I  have  yet  to  learn,"  Vinton  answered,  "  that 
the  pleasures  of  camping  can  be  lessened  by  a 
comfortable  bed  or  by  having  one's  food  well 
cooked  and  decently  served.  The  somniferous 
virtue  of  the  hemlock  boughs  is  not  destroyed 
by  laying  a  mattress  on  top  of  them  as  you  have 
done,  and  the  frying  pan  is  an  abomination  any 
where.  Certainly  the  cook  stove  will  save  Dan'l 
much  profanity  in  windy  weather." 

At  the  dining  tent  they  were  welcomed  by 
Dan'l,  an  old  Irishman  whom  Vinton  had  con 
tributed  as  cook  for  the  party,  and  whom  he  had 
sent  from  the  east  several  days  before. 

"  Dan'l  is  a  queer  old  fellow,"  Vinton  said, 
as  they  left  him  setting  the  table  for  dinner. 
"  He  was  with  me  for  several  years  during  the 
war,  and  when  I  left  the  Navy,  insisted  on  follow 
ing  me.  He  is  a  very  fair  cook  and  can  do  any 
kind  of  housework.  Indeed,  I  find  him  well 
nigh  indispensable." 

An  hour  later  Dan'l  demonstrated  to  the  satis 
faction  of  all  that  at  least  he  was  not  a  novice  in 
the  kitchen,  and  the  dinner  of  trout,  bass  and 


66  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

partridges,  with  a  dessert  of  wild  cranberry  tarts, 
might  well  have  tempted  even  less  voracious  ap 
petites. 

To  one  who  loves  the  woods,  nothing  is  more 
delightful,  restful  or  comforting  than  a  camp 
fire  on  an  autumn  night.  Aside  from  its  genial 
warmth  there  is  something  about  it  that  appeals 
to  every  temperament  and  mood.  If  you  are 
grave  or  weary  you  may  draw  your  top  coat  over 
your  shoulders  and  build  castles  in  the  glowing 
embers  beneath  the  blazing  logs.  If  your  spirits 
are  light  you  can  watch  the  tongues  of  flame  as 
they  chase  the  sparks  in  their  upward  flight  to 
the  branches  overhead.  Or  if  ill-humor  posses 
ses  you,  you  may  safely  vent  it  by  poking  the 
fire,  feeling  sure  that  its  smouldering  resentment 
will  soon  die  out. 

Around  such  a  fire  the  party  gathered  after 
dinner  and  soon  began  to  discuss  the  plans  for 
the  morrow.  Whitney  and  Vinton,  enthusiastic 
hunters  always,  having  seen  numerous  signs  of 
deer  on  the  road  to  camp,  were  desirous  of  mak 
ing  an  early  start  in  search  of  game.  Madge 
had  learned  from  Charley  that  very  few  deer  had 
been  seen  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  lake, 
this  being  due,  as  he  thought,  in  part  to  the 
noise  at  the  camp,  but  mainly  to  the  fact  that 
there  were  wolves  about.  A  few  days  before, 
however,  he  had  been  at  Elk  Lake,  some  six 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  67 

miles  distant,  and  believed  that  much  better 
shooting  could  be  had  there. 

It  was  agreed,  therefore,  that  in  the  morning 
the  men  should  go  with  Charley  to  Elk  Lake, 
taking  with  them  a  shelter  tent  and  provisions  so 
that  they  could  remain  over  night,  and,  if  they 
failed  to  get  a  deer  during  the  day  they  might 
be  sure  of  finding  one  with  a  head-light  before 
the  moon  came  up. 

"Night  hunting  is  simply  butchery,"  Madge 
said  to  Whitney,  as  she  saw  him  putting  his 
head-light  in  order ;  "  but  perhaps  it  is  justifiable 
until  we  have  meat  in  camp.  I  trust  that  you 
will  at  least  use  a  rifle  if  you  do  find  it  necessary 
to  shoot  at  night." 

"  I  confess  that  I  had  planned  to  be  more 
barbarous,"  he  answered,  "and  had  loaded  some 
shells  with  buckshot ;  but  I  will  throw  them  out. 
How  will  you  and  Mrs.  Elting  and  Helen  amuse 
yourselves  while  we  are  gone  ?  " 

"  We  shall  be  very  busy,  no  doubt.  Mrs. 
Elting  and  Helen  can  provide  the  larder  with 
fish,  and  I  hope  to  add  a  few  partridges  and 
ducks.  Besides,  I  must  renew  my  acquaintance 
with  some  of  my  old  haunts.  There  will  be  much 
to  fill  our  time  until  you  return.  The  days  are 
never  too  long  in  camp." 

Moulton  reluctantly  consented  to  join  the  ex 
pedition  to  Elk  Lake. 


68  OUT   OF   THE    WOODS. 

"  This  sudden  display  of  energy  does  not  ap 
peal  to  me  at  all,"  he  said,  as  he  returned  from 
his  tent  with  his  banjo,  having  left  Whitney  and 
Vinton  to  make  the  preparations  for  the  journey. 
"  I  had  looked  forward  to  a  lazy,  restful  day  to 
morrow,  such  a  day  as  I  have  not  had  in  the 
woods  since  we  were  children  in  dear  old  Leam 
ington." 

"  Do  you  remember  that  time  ? "  Helen 
asked.  "  It  seems  very  long  ago  to  me." 

Moulton  paused  a  moment  and  then  answered : 
"  Do  I  remember  ?  Listen."  And  in  a  low, 
sweet  voice  he  sang  a  quaint,  simple,  old  song 
that  as  children  they  had  learned  years  before. 

"  What  blessed  memories  that  song  revives," 
Helen  said,  with  a  sigh,  as  he  finished.  "  It  is 
very  sweet.  Why  have  you  never  sung  it  for  me 
before." 

"  It  is  scarcely  a  classic,"  Moulton  answered 
with  a  smile  ;  "  and  I  had  supposed  that  your 
musical  evolution  had  so  far  advanced  that  you 
would  not  care  for  such  an  old-fashioned  tune. 
Intrinsically,  of  course,  there  is  nothing  to  it, 
but  I  cannot  tell  you  the  comfort  it  has  brought 
to  me  at  times  when  I  have  been  depressed  — 
indigestion,  you  will  say  —  and  when  childhood 
seemed  to  hold  all  that  was  honest  in  life." 

"  I  can  understand  the  feeling.  Anyone  can 
who  truly  loves  music.  I,  too,  have  an  old  song — 


OUT    OF   THE    WOODS.  69 

Merrick  calls  it  my  morbid  song  —  that  is  a 
comforter  to  me  beyond  everything  else.  When 
the  demon  of  despondency  possesses  me  I  turn 
to  the  jdear  old  song  and  it  brings  an  infinite 
cense  of  peace  and  rest." 

"  Won't  you  sing  it  for  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed.  At  least  not  to-night.  I 
am  far  from  the  mood  for  it  now." 

During  the  half  hour  that  followed,  Moulton 
and  Helen  sat  alone  in  front  of  the  fire.  Mrs. 
Elting  wished  to  write  some  letters,  and  Vinton 
and  Whitney  were  packing  their  bags  and  mak 
ing  ready  for  the  morrow.  The  old  song  had 
given  the  key  note  to  their  conversation  and 
together  they  reviewed  scenes  that  each  thought 
the  other  had  long  since  forgotten.  An  open 
wood  fire,  always  conducive  to  reminiscence,  is 
never  so  much  so  as  with  the  accompaniment  of 
old  music. 

In  a  way,  Moulton  had  seen  much  of  the 
Whitneys  since  his  arrival  in  Chicago  five  years 
before,  but  at  that  time  Helen  was  in  the  very 
whirl  of  society  and  he  was  seldom  with  her 
alone.  As  a  child,  he  had  been  devoted  to  her 
above  all  others  and  it  was  no  little  disappoint 
ment  to  him  to  find  himself  sharing  with  many 
the  friendship  that  years  before  he  had  in  great 
measure  monopolized.  But  this  night,  as  they 
sat  together  on  a  low  rustic  bench  mounted  upon 


7O  OUT    OF   THE    WOODS. 

rude  rockers,  the  vanity  and  hollowness  of 
society  were  as  far  away  from  them  as  were  its 
devotees. 

"  What  a  rejuvenator  this  woods  life  must 
be,"  Moulton  said  at  last.  "  I  certainly  do  not 
feel  over  eighteen  to-night,  and,  alas !  I  am 
twenty-eight.  I  remember  when  that  seemed  at 
least  middle  age  to  me.  Fortunately  our  divi 
sions  of  life  change  with  the  point  of  view." 

"  It  is  inconsiderate  of  you  to  suggest  ap 
proaching  age  at  such  a  time,"  Helen  answered. 
"  A  moment  ago  I  might  have  thought  myself  a 
girl  of  fifteen  but  you  remind  me  that  I  must 
add  a  decade." 

"  Then  let  us  forget  our  arithmetic  in  childish 
fashion,  or  at  least  the  sum  of  our  years,  and  for 
the  next  month  measure  time  by  our  feelings 
only.  You  are  fifteen  and  I  eighteen  again." 
And  as  he  spoke  Moulton  found  himself  wish 
ing  that  the  flight  of  time  might  indeed  turn 
backward  so  far. 

Vinton  was  the  first  to  join  them,  and  as  he 
did  so  he  said:  "Come  down  to  the  landing  if 
you  would  see  a  beautiful  view.  The  moon  is 
just  rising  above  the  pines  on  the  opposite 
shore." 

Helen  ran  to  the  tent  for  Mrs.  Elting  and 
Madge  and  together  they  followed  Vinton  and 
Moulton.  The  sky  was  almost  without  a  cloud, 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  "Jl 

and  there  was  just  enough  wind  to  ripple  the 
path  of  light  across  the  surface  of  the  lake  and 
bend  the  slender  rushes  that  rose  from  the  shal 
low  water.  The  eastern  shore  was  black  with 
the  deep  shadows  of  the  trees,  but  where  the 
light  fell  the  white  beach  gleamed,  with  here 
and  there  some  fallen  giant  of  the  forest  lying 
across  it,  while  all  around  the  shore  others  lifted 
high  their  arms  in  sharp  silhouette  against  the 
sky.  So  still  was  the  night  that  the  jumping  of 
the  fish  far  out  in  the  lake  broke  the  quiet,  and 
the  occasional  crackling  of  the  fire  logs  was  as 
distinct  as  a  pistol  shot.  From  the  woods  far 
beyond  the  opposite  shore  the"Whoo;  whoo- 
whoo;  whoo-whoo "  of  an  owl  came  like  the 
cry  of  a  human  voice,  causing  Helen  to  ask  in  a 
whisper  : 

"  Did  you  hear  that,  Madge  ?  Is  it  some  one 
lost?" 

"  No,  Helen  dear,  that  is  the  voice  of  one 
who  is  never  lost  in  the  night.  It  is  the  '  lord 
of  the  midnight  wood,'  as  Barry  Cornwall  calls 
him  —  the  hoot  owl.  His  grewsome  cry  may  be 
a  love  song  to  his  mate  or  perhaps  a  fierce  chal 
lenge  to  some  rival  in  her  affections  miles  away. 
You  must  get  accustomed  to  this  nightingale  of 
the  northern  woods,  for  he  is  no  respecter  of 
slumber  and  you  may  hear  his  call  from  the  tree 
above  your  tent.  Let  us  go  to  bed  in  the  hope 


72  OUT   OF   THE    WOODS. 

that  to-night,   at  least,  we  may  be  spared    his 
serenade." 

As  they  returned  from  the  landing,  good 
night  was  said,  and  within  a  half  hour  the  camp 
was  hushed  except  for  the  occasional  snapping 
of  the  fire,  the  flickering  light  of  which  cast 
fantastic  shadows  on  the  tents. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

BY  noon  of  the  day  after  his  arrival  in  Keat 
ing,  Ferris  had  completed  his  inspection  of 
the  works  and  was  ready  to  start  for  Chicago, 
but  on  the  receipt  of  Moulton's  letter,  he  de 
cided  to  spend  a  few  days  at  Round  Lake  Camp 
before  his  return.  Burton  had  passed  the  night 
with  him  at  Brent's  house,  and  having  waited 
for  the  mail,  joined  his  urgent  invitation  to 
Moulton's.  The  trail  that  they  were  to  take  led 
through  the  woods  on  the  side  of  the  town  op 
posite  the  mine,  and  as  they  rode  down  the 
single  street  they  saw  many  changes  betokening 
the  return  of  industrial  life  to  the  place.  The 
men  had  apparently  put  off  their  slothful  habits 
in  the  night  and  were  busying  themselves  in 
work  that  must  be  done  before  the  following 
day.  The  women  sang  through  their  household 
duties  and  the  children  shouted  in  their  play  as 
if  the  wolf  of  starvation  which  had  prowled 
about  their  dwellings  for  months,  had  already 
been  driven  from  the  door  ;  and  if  the  horsemen 
could  have  heard  the  many  benedictions  that 
were  given  them  as  they  rode  along,  it  might 
73 


74  OUT   OF   THE    WOODS. 

have  sorely  endangered  their  modesty.  But  it 
was  enough  for  Ferris  to  know  that  he  had  ac 
complished  his  work  and  was  at  last  understood 
by  his  men,  while  Burton  found  ample  recom 
pense  in  the  opportunity  that  had  been  given 
him  to  "observe  phases  of  human  character 
under  somewhat  peculiar  conditions,"  as  he  ex 
pressed  it. 

Leaving  the  town,  they  passed  on  to  an  old 
logging  road  that  ran  through  a  long  stretch  of 
Norway  pines.  The  narrow  road  was  but  little 
used  except  by  Burton  and  was  covered  with 
pine  needles,  with  here  and  there  an  open  place 
in  which  the  sunlight  encouraged  the  berry 
bushes  and  grass.  Under  the  heat  of  the  after 
noon  sun  the  air  was  laden  with  the  incense  of 
the  pines,  and  Ferris  again  and  again  breathed 
long  and  deep  as  if  to  crowd  from  his  lungs  the 
last  vestiges  of  the  bad  air  and  soot  of  the  city. 

"Is  it  not  too  bad  that  we  cannot  have  such 
air  as  this  in  our  cities,  where  the  great  mass  of 
the  people  must  overwork  to  keep  soul  and  body 
together?  "  he  said,  as  they  rode  side  by  side. 

"As  a  humanitarian,  I  say  yes,"  replied  Bur 
ton,  "although  it  would  be  disastrous  to  my  pro 
fession.  Has  it  never  struck  you  as  remarkable, 
the  disregard  with  which  the  matter  of  pure  air 
is  treated?  It  is  a  singular  inconsistency  of  our 
race.  We  may  be  exceedingly  careful,  superfi- 


OUT   OF   THE    WOODS.  75 

cially,  at  least,  as  to  the  cleanliness  and  purity 
of  our  food  and  drink  and  clothing,  and  yet 
when  it  comes  to  that  which  is  most  essential  to 
the  nourishment  of  life,  the  air  we  breathe,  we 
are  strangely  indifferent.  Of  course  there  is 
much  time  in  the  life  of  a  city  man  or  woman  in 
which  the  lungs  must  be  taxed  in  screening  and 
straining  bad  air,  but  on  the  other  hand,  there 
is  much  time  spent,  particularly  by  the  well-to- 
do,  under  conditions  in  which  pure  air  is  a  pos 
sibility." 

"You  have  evidently  decided  views  in  regard 
to  ventilation." 

"  Yes,  and  yet  I  was  not  thinking  of  ventila 
tion  merely,  but  rather  of  purification.  Ventila 
tion  is,  of  course,  a  good  thing  even  if  we  simply 
supply  fresh  bad  air  in  place  of  stale  bad  air. 
But  how  much  better  and  more  reasonable  it 
would  be  to  filter  and  purify  the  air  we  supply 
to  our  lungs  precisely  as  we  filter  the  water  that 
we  furnish  our  stomachs  when  its  purity  is  ques 
tionable.  Take,  for  example,  two  hotels  in  the 
heart  of  a  great  city,  would  you  or  any  sane  per 
son  hesitate  in  choosing  between  them  if  one 
supplied  its  sleeping  rooms,  its  reading  room 
and  its  dining  room  with  purified  air,  while  the 
other  did  not?  And  the  matter  is  quite  easy  of 
accomplishment,  and  at  surprisingly  small  cost. 
I  gave  this  no  little  thought  years  ago,  but  I 


76  OUT    OF   THE    WOODS. 

found  in  the  end  that  the  problem  had  been 
practically  solved  long  before  and  that  the 
trouble  lay  chiefly  in  the  failure  of  the  public  to 
profit  by  its  solution." 

In  the  three  hours'  ride  from  the  town  to 
Burton's  cabin,  the  two  men  learned  much  of 
each  other.  They  were  enough  alike  in  many 
respects  to  be  thoroughly  congenial,  yet  differ 
ent  enough  to  be  mutually  interesting.  Ferris 
had  imagined  that  Burton  probably  had  wealth 
sufficient  to  warrant  his  giving  up  the  practice 
of  his  profession  and  spending  most  of  his  time 
in  the  woods  or  in  travel.  But  he  found  that  he 
was  anything  but  an  idler,  and  that  his  familiar 
ity  with  current  scientific  matters  proved  him  an 
earnest  student  of  affairs. 

Burton's  cabin, —  or  rather  cabins,  for  there 
were  two, — stood  a  few  rods  from  the  bank  of  the 
stream,  along  which  the  trees  had  been  cleared 
away,  except  a  few  at  the  water's  edge.  The 
cabins  were  not  set  vis-a-vis,  in  the  conventional 
manner  of  logging  camps,  but  both  fronted  on 
the  clearing  and  stood  about  a  hundred  feet 
apart.  The  smaller  was  divided  into  two  rooms, 
one  serving  as  a  sleeping  room  for  Adam,  the 
negro  cook,  and  Joe,  the  Indian  guide,  and 
the  other  as  kitchen  and  dining  room.  The 
larger  cabin  had  three  apartments.  The  front 
one  was  Burton's  bed  room  -,  back  of  this  were 


OUT    OF   THE    WOODS.  77 

two  smaller  rooms,  one  communicating  with  the 
front  room  and  the  other  cut  off  from  it  and  en 
tered  only  by  a  side  door.  This  last  was  the 
guest  room.  Burton  called  the  apartment  lead 
ing  from  his  bed  room,  his  work  shop,  but  it 
was  in  truth  a  well  equipped  laboratory. 

After  they  had  dismounted  and  Ferris  had 
put  away  his  saddle  bags  and  rod,  Burton  in 
vited  him  to  inspect  the  place.  They  first  en 
tered  the  kitchen,  where  Adam,  in  white  cap  and 
apron,  went  about  his  work  of  preparing  the 
dinner  like  a  veteran  chef. 

"  I  don't  think  that  Adam  approves  of  the 
woods,"  said  Burton,  as  they  left  the  kitchen. 
"  He  protests  each  year  against  coming,  yet 
refuses  to  be  left  at  home.  He  was  raised  by 
my  father  and  seems  to  feel  a  paternal  interest 
in  me,  and  although  he  must  be  nearly  sixty  he 
is  energetic  beyond  any  negro  I  ever  knew,  and 
knows  how  to  cook." 

As  they  left  the  kitchen  they  saw  Joe  coming 
from  the  woods  with  a  shotgun  in  one  hand  and 
a  brace  of  grouse  in  the  other.  He  was  not  a 
full-blooded  Indian,  although  nearly  as  dark. 
His  eyes  were  large,  his  hair  was  finer  and  he 
was  shorter  and  more  thick-set  than  his  Chip- 
pewa  brethren. 

"This  is  my  man  Friday,"  said  Burton  to 
Ferris,  as  Joe  came  toward  them.  "Joe,  my 


78  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

friend  Mr.  Ferris  wants  some  fishing  and  you 
must  get  it  for  him  to-morrow." 

"Yes,  I  find  him,  Tom,"  replied  Joe,  de 
lighted  at  the  suggestion  of  a  trip  on  the  river. 
"  Big  trout  down  by  rapids.  Big  buck,  too,  if 
him  want  one." 

"What  a  blood-thirsty  fellow  the  red  man  is," 
said  Burton,  as  they  walked  across  to  the  other 
cabin,  while  Joe  took  his  game  to  the  kitchen. 
"  As  long  as  there  is  a  drop  of  Indian  blood, 
you  are  sure  to  find  an  instinctive  desire  to 
slaughter  game.  Still,  I  am  gradually  civilizing 
Joe  ;  he  has  learned  to  appreciate  the  difference 
between  fishing  with  a  rod  and  fly  and  using  the 
old-fashioned  pole  and  line,  and  is  ready  to  ad 
mit  that  still-hunting  with  a  40-82  rifle  is  a  more 
worthy  way  to  kill  deer  than  night-hunting 
with  a  musket  and  buckshot.  Most  of  the  tro 
phies  in  this  room,"  added  Burton,  as  they  en 
tered  his  sleeping  room,  "  are  the  work  of  Joe's 
rifle." 

Ferris  gave  an  exclamation  of  delight  and 
surprise  as  he  looked  about  the  room.  The  floors 
were  covered  with  skins  of  bear,  deer,  otter,  and 
other  fur  animals  found  in  the  woods  and  streams 
thereabouts,  and  on  the  walls  were  several  fine 
deer  heads  and  horns,  while  over  the  stone  fire 
place  hung  the  head  of  a  buck  elk.  The  furni 
ture  consisted  of  several  chairs  of  rustic  pattern, 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  79 

a  table,  a  book-case,  a  dressing-case  and  a  bed 
of  heavy  and  simple  design. 

"You  did  not  kill  this  in  these  woods,  surely?" 
said  Ferris,  after  examining  the  head  to  satisfy 
himself  that  it  was  indeed  an  elk. 

"No,"  replied  Burton,  "I  did  not  kill  it, 
yet  it  was  killed  about  twelve  years  ago  within 
twenty  miles  of  this  spot.  It  must  have  been 
the  last  of  its  kind  in  these  parts  for  I  have  never 
heard  of  one  having  been  seen  on  the  peninsula 
since,  and  it  was  supposed  that  they  had  been 
killed  off  or  driven  out  long  before.  It  was  shot 
by  a  little  girl,  my  niece,  then  only  fourteen 
years  old.  You  will  meet  her  to-morrow  when 
you  go  to  Round  Lake,  but  you  must  not  speak 
of  this  head  before  her." 

"I  should  think  she  might  well  be  proud  of 
such  a  trophy." 

"On  the  contrary,  she  is  very  much  ashamed 
of  it,  and  after  I  had  the  head  mounted,  declined 
to  have  it  in  our  house.  The  fact  is,  she  is  a 
stickler  for  the  ethics  of  the  chase,  and  as  she 
shot  it  in  the  water,  she  does  not  like  to  be  re 
minded  of  what  she  considers  a  most  unsports- 
manly  act.  I  never  recall  the  incident  without 
smiling.  I  was  botanizing  about  five  miles  from 
our  old  camp  on  Round  Lake,  and  had  left  her 
with  my  rifle  on  the  shore  of  a  smaller  lake 
while  I  went  to  look  for  orchids  in  a  tamarack 


8o  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

swamp  several  miles  away.  She  had  made  a 
little  shelter  of  hemlock  boughs  and  was  tucked 
under  it  reading,  when  this  old  fellow  crashed 
through  the  brush  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
lake,  plunged  into  the  water,  and  began  swim 
ming  toward  her.  She  had  never  seen  so  large 
a  wild  animal  in  the  woods  and  her  first  womanly 
impulse  was  to  scream,  but  she  kept  still,  think 
ing  he  might  turn  to  one  side.  He  continued 
to  swim  straight  toward  her,  and  in  her  fright 
she  aimed  and  shot  him  through  the  head.  I 
heard  the  shot,  hurried  back  and  found  her  in 
tears.  '  Take  me  home,  oh  take  me  home,  Uncle 
Tom,  I  shot  him  in  the  water,'  was  all  she  said 
when  I  praised  the  shot.  On  our  way  to  camp 
she  asked  to  have  Joe  take  the  meat  to  a  neigh 
boring  lumber  camp  and  begged  me  not  to  re 
mind  her  of  the  matter  again." 

Burton  noted  with  pleasure  the  look  of  sur 
prise  on  Ferris's  face,  as  they  entered  the  door  of 
the  "work-shop"  and  closed  it  behind  them. 

"You  will  not  care  to  remain  in  here  very 
long,  as  I  am  keeping  the  temperature  at  eighty- 
five  and  the  air  very  moist  on  account  of  experi 
ments  I  am  making  with  certain  fungi.  It  is 
really  surprising  how  unsatisfactory  the  books  are 
in  regard  to  some  of  these,  particularly  when 
you  consider  what  an  important  part  they  play 
in  the  chemistry  of  every-day  life.  I  have  just 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  8 1 

concluded  several  experiments  in  yeast  culture 
that  I  was  led  to  make  after  reading  of  the 
remarkable  results  obtained  with  the  Japanese 
fungus,  Koji,  a  smut  grown  on  rice.  I  pro 
cured  some  of  it  after  much  trouble,  but  soon 
found  that  practically  the  same  results  could  be 
had  with  the  smut  of  corn  or  almost  any  other 
cereal,  and  I  am  experimenting  now  with  com 
mon  molds  or  fungi  of  various  kinds.  This  sort 
of  work  is  my  hobby,  but  I  have  ridden  it  to 
advantage,  for  with  the  aid  of  my  niece,  who  is 
particularly  fond  of  chemistry,  I  have  succeeded 
in  reaching  results,  the  patents  on  which  pay  us 
a  very  snug  income  in  royalties.  So  it  is  we 
profit  by  the  ignorance  and  laziness  of  our  fel 
lows." 

It  was  seven  o'clock  when  Adam  announced 
dinner,  and  here  again  was  a  surprise  for  Ferris, 
for  the  meal,  deliciously  cooked  and  daintily 
served,  proved  that  Adam  was  indeed  a  master  of 
his  art.  The  old  negro  showed  that  he  was  also 
accustomed  to  order  the  household  affairs,  for 
when  Burton  asked  if  they  were  to  have  no 
coffee,  he  replied  :  "  Your  coffee  will  be  served 
in  your  room  this  evening,  Mr.  Thomas." 

"  Which  means,  Ferris,  that  Adam  wants  to 
get  rid  of  us  now.  Well,  we  will  go  ;  he  is 
master  here." 

In  Burton's  room  they  found  a  bright  fire 


82  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

that  Joe  had  built,  and  above  it  swung  a  crane 
with  a  kettle  of  boiling  water  from  which  the 
coffee  was  soon  made.  Over  this  and  their  cigars 
the  plans  for  the  morrow  were  discussed.  It  was 
decided  that  Joe  should  paddle  Ferris  to  the 
rapids  about  fifteen  miles  down  stream  ;  from 
there  he  could  fish  the  river  two  miles  to  the 
logging  road  that  ran  to  Round  Lake  camp. 
With  the  aid  of  his  map  Burton  soon  gave  his 
guest  a  fair  idea  of  the  country  through  which 
he  would  pass,  and  as  the  camp  was  only  a  mile 
from  the  river,  and  the  logging  road  very  plain, 
he  suggested  that  he  could  fish  until  nearly 
sunset  and  still  reach  the  camp  in  time  for 
dinner. 

"  Would  it  not  be  better  to  walk  from  here  to 
the  rapids  ?"  asked  Ferris,  as  he  saw  by  the  map 
that  in  a  straight  line  the  distance  to  Round 
Lake  was  much  shorter  than  by  the  river. 

"There  are  two  fatal  objections  to  that," 
answered  Burton.  "  In  the  first  place,  you  would 
disappoint  Joe,  who  is  never  so  happy  as  when 
showing  his  skill  with  the  paddle,  and  in  the 
second  place,  the  trail,  if  it  can  be  called  one,  is 
as  bad  as  can  be.  It  was  run  by  the  compass 
through  swamps  and  windfalls  and  altogether 
without  regard  to  the  comfort  of  the  traveller. 
No,  you  will  enjoy  the  ride  to  the  rapids  and 
will  find  exercise  enough  after  you  reach  them, 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  83 

in  climbing  over  rocks  and  fallen  logs,  but  you 
will  get  good  fishing,  I  am  sure." 

It  was  agreed  that  as  Burton  could  not  go 
with  Ferris  because  of  his  laboratory  work,  he 
would  make  the  same  trip  on  the  day  following. 

There  was  a  remarkable  congeniality  between 
these  two,  and  they  lingered,  discussing  a  wide 
range  of  topics  until  nearly  midnight.  They 
had  become  friends,  and  as  occasion  offered  each 
was  told  something  of  the  other's  life.  Burton 
was  forty-nine  years  old,  although  he  looked 
much  younger.  He  was  born  and  had  lived  in 
the  little  town  of  Lewes  on  the  Delaware  coast 
until  he  was  twenty-five,  with  the  exception  of 
six  years  spent  at  college  and  in  hospital  work. 
On  the  death  of  an  uncle  in  Detroit,  he  was  left 
a  fortune  ample  enough  to  enable  him  to  follow 
his  studies  in  chemistry  and  medicine  without 
practicing  the  latter;  and,  what  was  more  to  him, 
I  .  the  management  of  the  property  took  him  from 
Lewes,  where  everything  had  gone  wrong  after 
the  death  of  his  young  wife  six  months  before. 
He  took  with  him  the  little  girl,  whom  he  had 
practically  although  not  formally  adopted  shortly 
before  his  wife's  death,  and  these  two  lived  with 
his  invalid  aunt,  who,  with  their  cheerful  com 
panionship,  still  lingered  at  the  age  of  eighty. 

"My  little  girl  has  grown  to  be  a  woman 
now,"  said  Burton,  with  a  half  sigh,  "  and  has 


84  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

not  been  in  the  woods  for  two  years,  during 
much  of  which  time  she  has  been  abroad.  We 
used  to  camp  each  summer  at  Round  Lake,  and 
Adam's  cabin  yonder  was  built  as  a  shelter  on 
our  fishing  trips.  I  have  kept  the  cabin  at  the 
Lake  in  repair,  and  I  assure  you  it  will  give  me 
pleasure  to  see  her  in  the  woods  again,  for  no 
environment  fits  her  so  well.  This  is  her  pho 
tograph,"  he  added,  after  a  moment's  pause, 
handing  Ferris  a  picture  from  the  dressing- 
case. 

"  Why,  surely,"  said  Ferris  in  surprise,  "  I 
have  seen  this  face.  Has  she  been  in  Chicago?" 

"  Never,  until  a  few  days  ago.  We  have 
always  come  here  by  boat  from  Detroit  to  Es- 
canaba  and  from  there  by  wagon  into  camp." 

Soon  after  this  Ferris  went  to  his  room  and 
fell  asleep  trying  to  recall  where  he  had  seen  the 
familiar  face  of  the  photograph.  He  knew  no 
more  until  he  was  aroused  by  Adam's  announce 
ment  of  "  Breakfast  in  half  hour,  sah,"  and  found 
the  sun  streaming  in  at  his  window. 

After  breakfast  and  a  cigar  with  Burton,  Fer 
ris  and  Joe  started  down  the  river  in  a  long, 
narrow  "dug-out"  of  the  latter's  handiwork, 
Ferris  seated  on  the  bottom  near  the  bow  and 
Joe  kneeling  near  the  stern.  It  was  a  disap 
pointment  to  the  Indian  that  Ferris  took  no  rifle 
with  him,  as  hunting  was  more  to  his  liking  than 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  85 

fishing.  For  several  miles  after  leaving  the  cabins 
the  river,  scarcely  thirty  feet  wide,  ran  in  rather 
sluggish  course  between  banks  hedged  with 
thickets  of  alders  and  heavy  underbrush,  then 
through  tamaracks  and  cedars  and  low  ground. 
Further  on  it  passed  the  foot  of  a  high  hill,  the 
heavy  timber  of  which  grew  to  the  water's  edge 
on  one  side,  while  on  the  other  there  stretched 
a  broad  meadow  of  rank  grass,  dotted  with 
bunches  of  small  trees  and  bushes  on  the  higher 
points  of  ground. 

Suddenly  the  boat  stopped  and  Joe  whis 
pered  : 

"  Keep  still,  deer  coming  in." 

Ferris  could  see  nothing  in  the  hundred  yards 
of  open  water  before  them,  but  the  quick  eye  of 
the  Indian  was  not  at  fault.  He  had  seen  the 
bending  of  a  bush  at  the  turn  of  the  river  such 
as  the  light  breeze  blowing  up  stream  could  not 
have  made.  Ferris  heard  the  breaking  of  a 
twig,  then  the  splash  of  a  buck  walking  in  the 
water  and  in  a  moment  he  appeared  around  the 
bend  and  in  midstream  before  them.  With 
head  in  air.  he  looked  toward  them  but  the  In 
dian  knelt  as  motionless  as  a  statue  and  with  his 
paddle  held  the  boat  as  in  a  vise.  Then  as  the 
deer  turned  slightly  and  splashed  the  water  with 
his  nose,  still  walking  toward  them,  the  canoe 
shot  forward  slightly  faster  than  the  current, 


86  OUT   OF   THE    WOODS. 

twenty  yards,  to  stop  again  as  the  deer  raised 
his  head.  This  was  repeated  and  they  were  now 
within  forty  yards. 

"Surely,  he  must  see  us,"  thought  Ferris. 

But  no,  he  crossed  the  stream  slowly  and  be 
gan  to  nip  the  tops  of  the  tall  grasses  at  the 
water's  edge,  while  the  canoe,  carried  by  the 
current,  was  steered  towards  him  by  the  motion 
less  Indian.  Then  with  a  mighty  stroke  the 
canoe  was  driven  forward.  There  was  a  bound, 
a  cracking  of  brush,  and  with  terrified  snorts 
the  deer  was  gone. 

There  was  an  expression  of  self-satisfaction 
on  Joe's  face  as  he  swung  the  boat  into  mid 
stream  again,  but  he  only  said  : 

"  Him  fine  buck.     Too  bad,  no  gun." 

As  they  continued  down  stream  Ferris  leaned 
back  upon  his  fish  basket,  and  shading  his  eyes 
with  his  hands,  watched  in  dreamy  mood  the 
drifting  clouds  and  the  overhanging  branches  of 
the  trees  along  the  banks.  Again  he  recalled 
the  photograph  Burton  showed  him  and  tried  to 
remember  where  he  had  known  that  face.  But 
the  canoe  is  now  approaching  the  rapids  and 
Joe  tells  him  to  get  ready  his  rod  and  flies.  By 
the  time  he  has  done  this  they  are  darting  past 
the  boulders  in  the  narrow  channel  and  in  a 
moment  more  the  boat  is  held  against  the  rapid 
current,  while  Ferris  has  forgotten  everything  save 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  87 

the  three-pound  trout  that  is  struggling  for  free 
dom  at  the  end  of  his  line. 

This  was  indeed  sport  after  his  own  heart, 
for  Ferris  was  an  enthusiastic  fisherman.  Never 
before  had  he  met  with  such  a  perfect  master  of 
the  paddle  as  Joe,  and  he  would  gladly  have 
foregone  his  luncheon  had  not  the  Indian  re 
minded  him  after  the  third  trout  had  been  cap 
tured,  that  it  was  "dinner  time,  may  be."  On 
the  bank  of  the  stream  a  short  distance  below 
the  rapids,  Joe  soon  built  a  small  fire  of  dry 
sticks  and  birch  bark.  While  the  water  was 
boiling  for  the  coffee  he  cleaned  two  of  the 
trout,  and  skillfully  fixing  them  upon  forked 
sticks  broiled  them  above  the  glowing  embers. 
The  luncheon  that  Adam  had  put  up  for  them 
was  then  spread  out  and  found  to  contain  a  cold 
partridge,  besides  bread  and  butter,  cookies  and 
a  glass  of  wild  cranberry  sauce.  From  a  neigh 
boring  birch  tree  Joe  stripped  several  broad 
sheets  of  bark  that  made  excellent  plates,  and 
a  luncheon  that  would  have  delighted  a  lover  of 
the  woods  more  than  the  most  epicurean  feast, 
was  ready. 

During  the  meal  and  in  the  half  hour  after, 
while  they  enjoyed  their  pipes,  these  two  men, 
—  the  one  a  child  of  the  forest  and  the  other  no 
less  a  lover  of  it, —  found  much  to  talk  of,  for 
in  reality  the  extremes  of  civilization  are  not  as 


88  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

far  apart  as  they  seem.  Joe's  father  was  a  full- 
blooded  Chippewa  Indian,  and  his  mother  a  Cana 
dian  French  woman,  but  while  the  child  of  this 
union  had  inherited  a  compromise  complexion, 
the  Indian  traits  were  strongly  predominant.  It 
was  a  surprise  to  Ferris,  however,  to  discover 
how  little  Joe  knew  of  the  history  of  his  people 
and  how  scant  was  his  store  of  tradition.  With 
eager  interest  he  listened  while  Ferris  told  what 
he  knew  of  the  Chippewa  tribe  and  its  Algon 
quin  brethren,  its  battles  for  existence  and  its 
wanderings,  until  the  remnant  found  an  abiding 
place  in  the  northern  woods,  where  proximity  to 
the  white  man  saved  it  from  extermination  by  its 
fiercer  and  more  powerful  foes.  It  is  fortunate 
that  our  Indian  lore  was  gathered  before  the  inter 
marrying  with  the  whites  began,  for  miscegena 
tion  is  disastrous  to  tradition.  The  story  of 
La  Salle,  as  Ferris  touched  upon  it  briefly,  seemed 
to  awaken  a  memory,  for  the  Indian  said  : 

"  Him  great  buck.  I  heard  old  squaw  tell  of 
him  some  time."  But  the  story  of  his  father's 
people  was  a  revelation  to  him. 

After  giving  Ferris  a  few  simple  directions 
how  to  find  the  Round  Lake  trail,  some  two 
miles  farther  down,  Joe  pushed  off  his  boat  and 
with  sturdy  stroke  was  soon  above  the  rapids 
and  beyond  the  bend  of  the  river.  Reluctantly, 
Ferris  left  the  pool  below  the  rapids  and 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  89 

began  fishing  down  stream.  As  he  went,  the 
current  became  more  swift  and  the  banks  of  the 
stream  more  precipitous  and  difficult  to  fish 
from,  but  the  occasional  pools,  although  at 
times  hard  to  reach,  invariably  repaid  his 
efforts  with  one  or  more  additions  to  his  small 
fish  basket  until  it  was  nearly  full.  At  length 
he  saw,  at  some  distance  ahead,  a  tall  pine,  the 
blazed  trunk  of  which  he  knew  marked  the  road 
he  would  take  to  camp  ;  but  between  him  and 
it  was  a  stretch  of  rapids,  the  still  water  at  the 
end  of  which  gave  promise  of  a  happy  climax 
to  his  day's  sport.  To  reach  this  spot  was  no 
easy  matter,  for  on  one  side  the  bank  of  the 
stream  had  caved  in,  dumping  a  mass  of  rocks 
at  the  edge  of  the  pool  and  overturning  a  giant 
hemlock,  the  trunk  of  which  had  fallen  across 
the  stream  while  its  roots  still  clung  to  the  top 
of  the  bank  from  which  it  had  fallen.  From 
this  tree,  if  he  could  get  upon  it,  he  could  easily 
command  the  pool.  Scaling  the  bank  with  some 
difficulty,  he  reached  the  tree  and  climbed  over 
its  projecting  roots.  Holding  fast  to  one  of 
these  he  made  a  cast,  but  the  flies  fell  short 
owing  to  his  height  above  the  water  level. 
Swinging  his  flies  to  the  opposite  side  of  the 
tree  to  cast  again,  he  had  begun  to  unreel  the  line, 
when  the  rotten  bark  on  which  he  stood  gave 
way  and  he  fell  upon  the  mass  of  rocks  below. 


CHAPTER  V. 

WHEN  Ferris  regained  consciousness  his 
first  sensation  was  that  of  intense  pain, 
and  as  he  tried  to  move  the  suffering  caused 
him  to  groan.  Then  he  realized  that  his  head 
was  being  supported  and  he  heard  a  soft  voice 
say  : 

" Poor  fellow,"  and  a  moment  later,  "won't 
you  try  to  get  up  ?  You  are  in  the  water  and  I 
am  afraid  you  will  be  chilled." 

Opening  his  eyes  he  met  the  gaze  of  the 
face  that  he  had  seen  so  often  since  Burton 
showed  him  the  photograph  the  night  before. 

"This  is  very  good  of  you,  Miss  Seaton.  I 
must  have  had  a  bad  fall.  Yes,  I  think  I  can 
get  up.  Ah !  that  left  arm  is  broken,"  he 
added  as  it  hung  helplessly  at  his  side,  while  he 
allowed  himself  to  be  raised  to  a  sitting  posi 
tion. 

Looking  down,  the  sight  of  the  pool  of 
blood  where  his  head  had  struck  the  rocks  made 
him  feel  faint  again  and  he  closed  his  eyes. 

"Do  you  think  you  are  strong  enough  to 
stand?"  Madge  said  in  persuasive  tones.  "Your 
90 


OUT   OF   THE    WOODS.  QI 

feet  are  in  the  water  and  it  is  very  cold.  Let 
me  help  you  and  if  you  can  walk  just  a  little 
way  you  will  find  a  warm  fire  and  a  comfortable 
bed.  Now  put  your  right  arm  on  my  shoulder 
and  I  am  sure  we  shall  get  on  nicely." 

Ferris  did  as  he  was  bidden  and  felt  himself 
lifted  to  his  feet,  which  were  so  numb  that  it 
was  with  difficulty  he  could  stand.  He  looked 
up  at  the  steep  bank  from  which  he  had  fallen 
and  then  at  the  river  and  said  helplessly : 

"  There  seems  no  alternative  but  swimming 
to  get  away  from  here." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  answered  with  a  smile,  "  the 
water  is  not  very  deep,  not  above  your  waist  and 
you  can  wade  across,  I  am  sure." 

"  But  won't  you  get  wet,"  he  said  in  faint  pro 
test.     "  Surely  you  must  be  already." 

"  I  do  not  mind  at  all.  I  am  quite  used  to 
wet  feet  when  I  am  in  the  woods." 

Ferris  tried  to  take  a  step  forward  without  her 
help,  but  in  doing  so  nearly  fell  again. 

"  Perhaps  you  had  better  sit  here  while  I  go  to 
camp  for  help.  It  will  take  me  only  a  few 
minutes." 

"  Pray  do  not  go,"  he  answered.  "  I  am  sure  I 
can  do  better,  at  least  if  you  will  let  me  take 
your  arm." 

With  his  right  arm  resting  on  her  shoulder 
and  her  left  supporting  much  of  his  weight,  they 


92  OUT   OF   THE    WOODS. 

succeeded  in  reaching  the  opposite  bank,  and 
Ferris  rested  against  the  tall  pine,  the  old 
blaze  on  which  showed  the  trail  to  Round 
Lake.  It  was  a  long  and  weary  mile  for  Ferris 
from  the  river  to  the  camp,  and  many  times  he 
found  himself  involuntarily  leaning  heavily  upon 
his  companion's  arm.  But  she  protested  that  he 
did  not  allow  her  to  help  him,  as  an  invalid 
should,  and  in  her  happy  way  encouraged  him 
to  bear  up  when  he  felt  that  to  drag  himself  an 
other  step  was  next  to  a  physical  impossibility. 

It  was  nearly  dark  when  they  came  in  sight 
of  the  tents  and  a  loud  "halloa"  from  Madge 
brought  old  Dan'l,  who  had  just  started  the 
camp  fire  and  was  waiting  her  return  before  serv 
ing  the  dinner.  With  Dan'l's  help  Ferris  was 
quickly  relieved  of  his  wet  clothing,  and  after  get 
ting  into  a  suit  of  Vinton's  pajamas  was  put  to 
bed  on  a  cot  that  Dan'l  brought  from  his  own  tent. 

"  Good  liquor  is  a  great  enemy  of  water,  we 
sailors  think,"  said  Dan'l,  as  he  administered  a 
liberal  draught  of  what  he  called  the  best  liquor 
this  side  of  salt  water,  "  though  some  folks  don't 
seem  to  know  it,  judging  from  the  way  they  mix 
'em  together,"  he  observed,  as  he  helped  Ferris 
into  bed. 

"Can  I  come  in  now?" asked  Mrs.  Elting,  as 
she  heard  Dan'l  wish  Ferris  a  good-night  and 
assure  him  that  he  would  feel  "  like  a  jack-tar  on 


OUT   OF   THE    WOODS.  93 

a  shore  day  "  in  the  morning.  The  old  servant 
did  not  know  it  was  taxing  to  the  utmost  poor 
Ferris's  endurance  to  bear  in  silence  the  agony 
he  was  suffering. 

"Yes,  thanks,"  answered  Ferris,  and  Mrs. 
Elting  entered  bringing  with  her  such  things  as 
might  be  needed  in  dressing  his  wounded  head 
and  arm.  Gently  she  removed  from  his  head  the 
hastily  improvised  bandage  that  Madge  had 
placed  there,  a  small  soft  handkerchief  now 
soaked  with  blood  from  the  wound  it  covered 
above  the  temple,  and  held  in  place  by  the  braid 
torn  from  her  skirt.  Then  with  her  scissors  she 
cut  away  the  hair,  bathed  the  wound  with  tepid 
water,  and  drawing  the  edges  together,  applied 
strips  of  adhesive  plaster  with  the  skill  of  a  sur 
geon.  She  realized  her  helplessness  as  she  cut 
away  the  sleeve  of  the  left  arm  and  saw  how 
badly  it  was  broken ;  the  small  bone  below  the 
elbow  protruding  almost  through  the  skin.  This 
was  work,  indeed,  for  a  surgeon.  As  she  lifted 
the  arm  slightly  to  place  it  in  a  more  natural 
position  she  heard  Ferris  grind  his  teeth  together 
and  stifle  a  groan.  Carefully  she  wound  a  broad, 
soft  bandage  around  it,  not  feeling  quite  certain 
that  this  was  the  right  thing  to  do. 

By  the  time  she  had  finished  this  and  had 
bathed  his  face,  Ferris  began  to  breathe  heavily. 
The  terrible  shock,  the  loss  of  blood,  the  excru- 


Q4  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

ciating  pain,  the  weary  walk  had  exhausted  his 
strength  and  for  a  short  time,  at  least,  he  would 
forget  them  all.  But  it  was  only  for  a  little 
while,  for  soon  he  began  to  move  nervously  and 
groan  in  his  sleep,  and  in  less  than  an  hour  was 
awake  again.  He  did  not  at  once  recognize  his 
surroundings,  but  in  a  moment  the  thought  of 
what  had  happened  and  where  he  was  came  to 
him.  Mrs.  Elting  still  sat  by  his  side  and  his 
eyes  were  very  bright  as  he  caught  hers  and  with 
a  faint  smile  thanked  her  for  her  care.  With 
motherly  gentleness  she  placed  her  hand  upon 
his  forehead  and  found  that  he  was  in  a  fever. 
She  was  not  easily  alarmed,  yet  she  had  learned 
enough  of  illness  to  know  that  under  the  cir 
cumstances  he  might  be  in  danger.  Promising 
to  return  in  a  few  minutes,  she  went  to  find 
Madge  and  determine  with  her  aid  whether  it 
might  be  possible  to  direct  Dan'l  so  that  he 
could  find  Dr.  Burton's  cabin  and  get  him  to 
Ferris  without  delay.  Madge,  who  was  sitting 
before  the  smouldering  camp  fire,  hastened  to 
Mrs.  Elting  when  she  saw  her  come  from  the  tent. 

"  Is  there  anything  I  can  do,  Dora  ?  "  she  in 
quired  anxiously. 

"No,  nothing,  dear,  unless  you  can  direct 
Dan'l  how  to  get  to  your  uncle's.  Mr.  Ferris  is 
in  much  pain,  but  what  worries  me  more  is  that 
he  is  very  feverish.  Now  you  must  not  be 


OUT    OF   THE    WOODS.  95 

alarmed,  but  if  you  think  Dan'l  can  find  his  way 
by  the  river  or  through  the  woods  to  Dr.  Burton's 
cabin,  I  am  sure  that  he  had  better  start  at  once. 
You  see  the  men  will  not  return  from  Elk  Lake 
before  to-morrow  noon,  if  so  soon,  and  Charley 
may  not  come  with  them  if  he  has  to  carry  in 
the  venison.  Do  you  think  Dan'l  can  find  the 
way  at  night  ?  " 

"No,  I  am  certain  he  could  not.  The  trail 
by  the  river  is  nearly  twenty  miles  and  almost 
impassable.  The  trail  through  the  woods  has 
not  been  blazed  for  years  and  I  scarcely  think  he 
could  follow  it  by  daylight.  No,  Dan'l  cannot 
go,  but  I  will,  and  at  once,"  she  added. 

"  But,  my  dear  child,  that  is  impossible.  You 
must  not  subject  yourself  to  the  danger  of  going 
alone  through  these  woods  at  night.  Besides, 
you  have  had  a  hard  day  already,  and  must  be 
very  tired.  Suppose  you  should  get  lost?  I 
could  never  forgive  myself." 

"Now,  Dora  dear,"  answered  Madge,  "it  is 
good  of  you  to  think  of  me,  but  you  must  not 
worry.  There  is  no  danger  in  these  woods  at 
night  —  no  animal  that  will  not  run  from  the 
human  voice  ;  and  as  to  my  getting  lost,  I  know 
every  foot  of  the  way,  for  these  woods  are  like 
home  to  me.  So  you  see  there  is  really  no  cause 
to  worry,  and  I  will  return  with  uncle  in  the 
morning." 


96  OUT    OF   THE    WOODS. 

In  vain  Mrs.  Elting  protested  against  her 
going,  for  Madge  realized  the  pressing  need  of 
her  uncle's  presence  in  this  extremity. 

Hastily  she  made  her  preparations  for  the 
journey,  which  she  knew  must  be  a  hard  one, 
since  as  Burton  had  told  Ferris,  the  trail  was  as 
bad  as  could  be  and  it  was  a  long  twelve  miles. 
She  was  indeed  tired  and  the  sight  of  food  re 
pelled  her,  yet  she  ate  a  light  dinner,  knowing 
that  she  would  need  strength  for  the  journey. 
In  her  pocket  she  took  a  few  crackers,  a  box 
of  matches  and  a  compass,  and  fastened  to  her 
belt  a  small  hunting  knife  and  her  revolver.  In 
one  hand  she  carried  her  tent  lantern  and  in  the 
other  a  woolen  jacket. 

There  is  something  solemn,  impressive,  awe- 
inspiring,  about  a  dense  forest  in  the  night. 
The  utter  stillness,  save  for  the  uncanny  sounds 
of  insect  life  that  are  heard  at  no  other  time,  the 
towering  blackness  of  the  trees,  which  seem  so 
much  taller  than  by  daylight,  the  queer  shapes 
of  broken  trunks  and  branches,  the  occasional 
phosphorescence  of  a  rotten  stump  —  all  con 
tribute  to  quicken  the  heart-beats  even  of  one 
who  knows  and  loves  the  solitude  of  the  woods. 
And  so  it  was  that  while  Madge  felt  no  fear  of 
anything  tangible,  there  was  that  indefinite  dread 
or  nervousness  which  is  apt  to  come  to  even  the 
bravest,  when  subjected  to  the  imaginary  prob- 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  Q7 

ability  of  meeting  some  mysterious  foe.  While 
she  knew  this  trail  and  could  have  followed  it 
easily  by  day,  she  soon  realized  how  different 
and  unfamiliar  it  was  by  night,  and  often  was 
forced  to  slacken  her  pace  and  search  for  the 
obscure  blazes  that  in  many  places  had  been  ob 
literated  by  the  natural  growth  of  the  trees  on 
which  they  were  made.  Yet  she  knew  that  if 
the  trail  were  lost  it  would  be  far  more  difficult, 
if  not  impossible  in  the  darkness,  to  find  her 
way  by  the  compass.  Each  familiar  landmark 
gladdened  her  heart ;  even  the  long  stretch  of 
burnt-over  windfall  covered  with  its  growth  of 
briar  bushes  that  scratched  her  hands  and  tore 
her  gown,  and  the  dense  boggy  tamarack 
swamp  that  in  daylight  she  would  have  walked 
around  to  avoid  wetting  her  feet,  no  longer 
daunted  her.  Once  she  sat  down  to  rest  for  a 
little  while  on  a  fallen  tree,  and  involuntarily 
the  tears  rolled  down  her  face,  for  she  knew  that 
she  had  covered  only  half  the  distance  and  she 
was  tired  almost  to  exhaustion.  "  Courage,  cour 
age,"  she  said  to  herself,  and  again  and  again 
silently  prayed  for  strength  to  reach  her  desti 
nation. 

At  last  through  the  woods  she  saw  the  open 
ing  where  the  river  ran,  and  quickening  her  gait 
she  crossed  the  bridge  and  was  at  the  door  of 
Burton's  cabin.  How  her  heart  beat  and  her 


98  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

temples  throbbed  !  She  knocked  on  the  door 
and  waited  a  moment,  but  no  answer.  What  if 
he  had  been  called  to  Keating,  she  thought. 
Again  she  knocked  louder  than  before,  and  this 
time  called  : 

"Uncle  Tom,  come  quickly." 

In  a  moment  she  heard  a  door  open  at  the 
other  end  of  the  cabin  and  saw  Burton  running 
towards  her. 

"What  has  happened,  Madge  dear?"  he  said, 
taking  her  outstretched  hands  as  she  sank  to  the 
bench  beside  the  door.  "  How  did  you  get 
here?  You  are  ill,  child.  Were  there  no  men 
in  your  camp  that  you  should  make  this  journey 
alone?  Did  Mr.  Ferris  know  that  you  came 
alone?" 

Madge  had  collapsed  under  the  long  strain 
through  which  she  had  passed  and  sobbed  pite- 
ously  as  Burton  questioned  her  rapidly. 

"In  a  moment,  Uncle  dear,  I  will  tell  you 
all,"  she  said,  as  she  wiped  her  eyes  and  tried  to 
speak.  "  Mr.  Ferris  has  met  with  a  dreadful  ac 
cident.  He  has  broken  his  arm  and  cut  his 
head  and  you  must  go  to  him  at  once;"  and 
again  the  sobs  choked  her  voice.  "  Oh,  do 
hurry  and  get  ready,  Uncle  Tom,  and  I  will  tell 
you  all  afterwards." 

"But,  my  child,  I  must  take  care  of  you  be 
fore  I  can  go  to  Ferris.  Now  lie  down  in  this 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  99 

room,"  he  said,  as  he  opened  the  door  at  which 
she  had  knocked,  "  and  I  will  return  in  a  mo 
ment." 

He  hurried  away  without  heeding  her  protest 
that  he  must  not  stop  to  think  of  her,  and  soon 
had  Adam  and  Joe  at  work,  the  one  building  a 
fire  in  the  guest  room  and  the  other  filling  the 
lantern  and  getting  together  and  packing  into  a 
small  bag  such  things  as  he  had  suitable  or  could 
improvise  for  the  surgical  work  before  him. 
During  this  time  Adam  had  made  for  Madge  a 
hot  cup  of  tea  and  had  brought  a  hot  foot  bath. 
When  Burton  returned,  he  found  her  resting 
quietly,  the  old  negro  hovering  about  her  with 
a  devotion  characteristic  of  his  race.  In  as  few 
words  as  possible,  she  told  how  she  had  found 
Ferris  after  his  fall,  how  Mrs.  Elting  had  dressed 
his  wound,  and  how  after  a  brief  sleep  he  had 
grown  restless  and  feverish.  A  look  of  anxiety 
came  into  Burton's  face,  and  noticing  it,  she 
said  : 

"  Do  you  think  Mr.  Ferris's  injuries  may  be 
very  serious?" 

"  Oh,  no,  broken  arms  are  not  apt  to  be  seri 
ous,  but  I  think  I  may  save  him  considerable 
pain,  and  I  will  lose  no  time  in  getting  to  him." 

Bidding  Madge  good-bye,  and  promising  to 
send  Joe  to  fetch  her  by  the  river  the  next  day, 
he  returned  to  his  laboratory  for  some  addi- 


TOO  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

tional  drugs  and  then  with  the  Indian  started 
over  the  trail  by  which  she  had  come. 

It  was  midnight  when  they  left  the  cabins 
and  the  clouded  moon  dimly  lighted  the  woods. 
Joe  scarcely  needed  the  lantern  that  he  carried 
to  show  him  the  trail,  for  he  knew  it  by  night 
as  well  as  by  day,  and  the  bent  grass  and  up 
turned  moss  showed  him  as  plainly  the  way 
Madge  had  come  as  if  her  foot-prints  had  been 
made  in  snow.  It  was  with  effort  that  Burton 
followed  him,  but  he  had  told  him  to  lose  no 
time  and  he  was  obeying  to  the  letter.  It  had 
taken  Madge  four  hours  to  make  the  distance 
that  they  covered  in  three.  As  they  approached 
the  camp  the  Indian  stopped  an  instant,  for  his 
keen  ear  had  heard  an  unusual  sound  and  he 
said : 

"Listen,  Tom,  him  fight." 

"Go  on,"  Burton  answered  sharply,  hurrying 
rapidly  forward.  As  they  neared  the  tents  the 
noises  grew  louder  and  more  distinct.  In  his 
hospital  work  he  had  heard  such  sounds,  and  he 
quickly  detected  Ferris's  voice  speaking  in  the 
tone  of  intense  excitement  peculiar  to  delirium. 

He  paused  a  moment  outside  the  tent  and 
from  a  small  phial  carefully  filled  a  hypodermic 
syringe  ;  then  making  a  slight  noise  to  attract 
Mrs.  Elting's  attention,  he  waited  until  she  came 
out  followed  by  Dan'l.  As  he  entered  the  tent 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  IOI 

Ferris  endeavored  to  rise,  but  his  strength  was 
exhausted  and  he  sank  back  upon  the  bed  with 
a  groan.  He  did  not  recognize  Burton  nor  did 
he  apparently  feel  the  needle  of  the  syringe  as  it 
entered  his  bared  arm.  The  effect  of  the  drug 
was  quick  and  in  an  incoherent  way  he  mur 
mured  : 

"  Bring  her  back  again,  won't  you  ?  I  prom 
ise  you  can  have  what  you  want.  Let  me  see 
her  again  before  I  go, — just  a  little  while.  She 
was  so  good  to  me  and  I  did  not  thank  her. 
Ah,  this  is  cruel,"  and  closing  his  eyes  he 
breathed  heavily. 

Burton  waited  a  few  minutes  to  be  sure  that 
Ferris  was  under  the  influence  of  the  drug  and 
then  went  outside  the  tent. 

"I  think  Mr.  Ferris  will  get  on  comfortably," 
he  said  to  Mrs.  Elting  whom  he  found  anxiously 
waiting  with  Helen.  "  I  will  look  after  him 
now  and  you  must  get  some  rest." 

"  Is  there  nothing  we  can  do,  Doctor?"  Helen 
asked.  "I  am  not  at  all  sleepy." 

"  No,  there  is  nothing  that  will  be  so  good 
for  him  as  perfect  rest.  As  soon  as  may  be  I 
will  ascertain  how  seriously  his  head  is  injured. 
The  broken  arm  is  of  little  consequence." 

Thus  reassured  Mrs.  Elting  and  Helen  went 
to  their  tent  and  Burton  returned  to  Ferris. 

"  Spread  your  blanket  in  the  corner,  Joe,  and 


IO2  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

get  some  sleep,"  he  said,  as  he  entered  the  tent. 
"  I  shall  want  you  to  go  to  the  cabins  in  the 
morning." 

Within  a  few  minutes  the  deep  breathing  of 
the  Indian  told  how  easy  he  found  obedience  to 
this  order.  Later  Burton  examined  the  wound 
upon  Ferris's  head  and  was  relieved  to  find  that 
the  skull  was  not  fractured.  He  knew  from  this 
that  unless  the  concussion  had  been  more  seri 
ous  than  was  evidenced  by  the  scalp  wound,  his 
patient,  with  a  few  hours'  rest,  would  be  out  of 
danger,  if  the  fever  could  be  promptly  checked. 
After  filling  the  tent  stove  with  fresh  wood,  he 
waited  patiently  for  the  fever  to  subside  as  the 
temperature  of  the  tent  increased.  In  this  he 
was  not  disappointed,  and  within  a  few  hours 
the  danger  in  this  direction  had  passed. 

It  was  broad  daylight  when  Ferris  awoke  and 
found  Burton  at  his  side  with  splints  in  readi 
ness  to  set  the  broken  arm.  With  Joe's  assist 
ance  this  was  soon  accomplished,  although  not 
without  much  pain. 

Having  made  his  patient  as  comfortable  as 
possible  and  left  him  to  the  tender  care  of  Mrs. 
Elting,  with  directions  as  to  some  simple  medi 
cine  to  induce  sleep  and  prevent  the  return  of 
the  fever,  Burton  sent  Joe  to  his  cabins  to  bring 
Madge,  and  then  went  to  bed  in  Vinton's  tent. 
At  intervals  during  the  morning  Ferris  sought 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  IO3 

to  learn  from  Mrs.  Elting  all  that  had  occurred 
since  his  accident,  but  in  obedience  to  Burton's 
instructions,  she  insisted  upon  his  silence,  al 
though  she  could  not  resist  telling  him  that  it 
was  Madge  who  had  gone  for  Burton  in  the 
night. 

Shortly  before  luncheon  Vinton,  Whitney 
and  Moulton  returned  with  Charley  from  Elk 
Lake,  bringing  with  them  a  handsome  buck  that 
Whitney  had  killed  the  night  before.  Both 
Vinton  and  Moulton  had  missed  fair  shots  dur 
ing  the  day, — a  fact  that  in  Whitney's  easy 
conscience  justified  their  subsequent  night- 
hunting.  Moulton's  account  of  this  enter 
tained  Helen  as  she  went  with  him  to  the  land 
ing  to  view  the  head. 

"When  we  reached  the  lake  yesterday  morn 
ing, —  it  seems  at  least  a  month  ago," — he 
said,  "  Charley  posted  us  at  different  places 
while  he  made  a  wide  detour  through  the  woods. 
My  position  was  on  a  little  point  that  com 
manded  a  bay  scarcely  a  hundred  yards  across 
and  which  for  a  half  hour  I  watched  so  intently 
that  I  am  sure,  were  I  an  artist,  I  could  repro 
duce  its  every  tree,  and  twig  and  leaf.  Then  I 
remembered  an  unfinished  story  in  my  pocket 
and  concluded  that  I  could  quite  as  well  relieve 
my  eyes  and  brain  with  that.  I  had  just  lighted 
a  cigar  and  was  beginning  to  feel  that  still 


IO4  OUT   OF   THE   WOODS. 

hunting  wasn't  so  bad  after  all,  when  I  heard  a 
crash  in  the  brush  near  me  and,  looking  up,  saw 
a  deer  not  fifty  yards  away.  Considering  the 
fact  that  the  deer  is  a  most  timid  and  harmless 
creature,  it  is  marvellous  what  a  commotion 
akin  to  terror  the  sudden  appearance  of  one  can 
arouse.  My  heart  beat  like  a  trip-hammer  and 
the  perspiration  stood  in  beads  upon  my  fore 
head.  I  dropped  my  book  and,  in  a  spirit  of 
self  defense,  I  think,  reached  for  my  rifle, 
which  stood  against  an  adjacent  stump.  This 
attracted  the  animal's  attention  and  with  a  snort, 
indicative  of  disgust,  no  doubt,  he  turned  and 
started  for  the  timber.  As  he  did  so,  I  fired, 
but  of  course  the  bullet  went  wide  of  the  mark, 
for  my  hand  was  trembling  like  an  aspen.  Your 
brother  was  unkind  enough  to  diagnose  my  case 
as  one  of  'buck  fever.'  An  hour  later  Vinton 
missed  a  shot  and  I  felt  in  a  measure  consoled. 
"Of  course  our  explanations  were  interesting, 
but  they  did  not  help  out  the  larder,  and  imme 
diately  after  supper  we  decided  to  try  our  luck 
by  night.  Charley  had  resurrected  an  ancient 
dug-out,  and  in  the  bow  of  this  he  set  up  a  staff 
to  which  we  fastened  the  head-light.  Immedi 
ately  behind  this  Merrick  knelt  with  his  rifle  in 
front  of  him,  while  I  sat  in  the  waist  and  Charley 
paddled  in  the  stern.  The  night  was  very  cold, 
and  as  our  boat  crept  along  the  edge  of  the  shore 


OUT   OF   THE    WOODS.  IO5 

the  mist  rising  from  the  water  seemed  to  pene 
trate  my  very  bones,  notwithstanding  I  had  on 
numerous  flannel  shirts,  a  top  coat  and  a  blanket. 
I  think  I  would  have  wrapped  the  shelter  tent 
about  me  also  if  Vinton  had  not  been  beneath 
it.  But  it  was  exciting,  I  assure  you.  I  sat 
there  in  a  tremor  of  expectation  and  cold,  strain 
ing  my  eyes  on  each  point  of  the  shore  as  Mer- 
rick  turned  his  light  upon  it.  The  stillness  was 
deathlike  except  for  the  occasional  thumping  of 
beetles  against  the  lamp,  from  which  they  seemed 
to  take  refuge  on  my  face,  and  the  jumping  of 
fish  as  we  broke  their  surface  slumbers.  Until 
you  have  tried  it,  you  can  have  no  idea  how 
startling  it  is  at  night  to  have  some  leviathan  of 
the  deep,  or  what  seems  like  one,  dart  suddenly 
from  beneath  the  bow  of  your  boat.  We  had 
nearly  completed  the  circuit  of  the  lake,  gliding 
noiselessly  in  and  out  its  little  bays  where  the 
rushes  would  permit,  when  suddenly  I  felt  the 
boat  shake.  This  apparently  excited  a  new  set 
of  nerves,  and  I  was  tempted  to  jump  out  and 
swim  ashore,  when  I  remembered  that  it  was 
Charley's  signal  that  a  deer  was  at  hand.  At 
first  I  could  see  nothing;  but,  as  Merrick  swung 
his  light  towards  the  shore,  two  eyes  like  balls  of 
fire  loomed  against  the  black  background  of  the 
trees.  Slowly  the  boat  crept  toward  them,  and 
at  a  second  signal  from  Charley,  Merrick  raised 


IO6  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

his  rifle  and  fired.  Our  boat  darted  forward, 
and  in  a  moment  we  were  in  shallow  water,  and 
Merrick  and  Charley  gave  the  coup  de  grace  to 
this  monarch  of  the  forest." 

In  the  afternoon  Vinton  and  Moulton  were 
allowed  to  see  Ferris,  and  later  Madge  came, 
bringing  with  Adam's  compliments,  a  brace 
of  partridges  for  his  dinner.  On  the  fol 
lowing  morning  Burton  started  for  his  cabins, 
having  first  exacted  from  his  patient  a  promise 
that  he  would  remain  in  bed  until  his  return  the 
next  day. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

FERRIS  had  not  been  ill  since  his  childhood, 
and  after  three  days'  confinement  in  bed,  he 
welcomed  the  morning  on  which  Burton  was  to 
return  and  let  him  up.  Every  one  had  been 
very  attentive  to  him  and  contributed  in  every 
possible  way  toward  his  entertainment,  but  he 
felt  sorely  tempted,  as  his  strength  returned, 
to  break  the  promise  which,  in  his  weak  condi 
tion,  seemed  so  easy  to  make. 

Through  the  open  flaps  of  his  tent  he  could 
see  different  members  of  the  party  preparing  for 
the  diversions  of  the  day.  Vinton  had  set  his 
heart  on  getting  a  buck,  and  not  discouraged  by 
the  fact  that  he  had  missed  two  the  day  before, 
had  taken  an  early  breakfast  and  gone  with  the 
Indian  for  an  all-day  tramp.  Whitney  had 
also  gone  early  to  catch  the  morning  flight  of 
some  duck  he  had  seen  the  day  before  in  a 
neighboring  lake,  and  Madge  was  preparing  to 
meet  him  there  and  show  him  the  whereabouts 
of  a  covey  of  partridges  before  returning  for 
luncheon.  Helen  and  Moulton  had  spent  an 
107 


IO8  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

hour  in  planning  just  where  they  should  go. 
Moulton  had  suggested  and  argued  stoutly  in 
favor  of  a  bear  hunt  and  other  equally  absurd 
plans  as  a  way  of  consuming  the  morning 
hours,  and  had  varied  his  argument  with  a  dis 
cussion  of  a  wide  range  of  topics,  from  the  latest 
light  opera,  snatches  of  which  he  illustrated  on 
the  banjo,  and  with  which  he  was  entirely  fa 
miliar,  to  the  habits  of  the  black  bear  and  the 
best  methods  of  hunting  him,  about  which  he 
knew  nothing. 

The  Gordian  knot  of  this  embarrassing  ques 
tion  was  at  last  cut  by  old  Dan'l,  who  had  been 
taking  in  the  conversation,  as  he  busied  himself 
about  his  culinary  duties. 

"  Mr.  Moulton,  sor,  if  it  would  not  interfere 
with  your  slaughtering  of  the  bear,  ye  might 
take  the  small  basket  and  pick  some  blueberries, 
and  I'll  give  ye  some  foin  pies,  sor,  for  dinner." 

"That  is  a  capital  suggestion,  Dan'l;  there 
is  no  place  where  one  is  so  apt  to  meet  the  black 
bear  as  in  a  blueberry  patch.  I  think  I  might 
quote  even  Audubon  as  an  authority  for  that, 
Miss  Seaton." 

And  so  they  started  around  the  edge  of  the 
lake,  Moulton  carrying  the  basket  and  Helen  a 
light  novel.  In  a  few  minutes  Moulton  re 
turned. 

"What's  the  matter,  Tom?"  Ferris  asked  as 


OUT   OF   THE    WOODS.  IOQ 

he  entered  the  tent;  "  I  thought  you  and  Miss 
Whitney  had  gone  on  a  bear  hunt." 

"  Well,  we  did  start;  but  she  has  just  called 
my  attention  to  the  fact  that  I  forgot  my  rifle, 
and  I  have  come  back  for  it." 

He  took  the  rifle  from  the  rack  and  was  leav 
ing  the  tent,  when  Ferris  called :  "  Hold  on,  Tom, 
won't  you  need  some  cartridges?  Hunters  fre 
quently  do." 

"Don't  be  funny,  Bob,"  he  answered,  as  he 
snatched  up  a  cartridge  belt  and  hurried  away. 

In  a  little  while  Mrs.  Elting  came  to  Ferris's 
tent  and  began  reading  aloud;  but  he  thought 
little  of  the  story,  for  he  was  watching  Madge  as 
she  wiped  out  her  shotgun  and  filled  the  pockets 
of  her  short  coat  with  shells.  He  smiled  as  he 
saw  her  look  through  the  polished  barrels  and 
with  the  affectionate  care  of  a  veteran  sportsman 
run  her  white  hand  over  the  brown  metal  from 
breech  to  muzzle. 

"Has  our  invalid  any  choice  of  game?"  she 
asked  lightly  as  she  stood  a  moment  in  front  of 
the  tent  before  going. 

"Well,  Miss  Aladdin,  since  you  suggest  it,  I 
think  my  dainty  appetite  craves  the  luscious 
breast  of  the  dusky  mallard,"  Ferris  answered  in 
the  same  vein. 

With  an  oriental  courtesy  she  disappeared, 
and  for  a  few  minutes  later  he  could  see  her 


IIO  OUT    OF   THE    WOODS. 

kneeling  straight  as  an  Indian,  as  she  paddled 
her  canoe  across  the  lake. 

Toward  noon  Burton  appeared,  closely  fol 
lowed  by  Joe,  each  bearing  on  his  back  a  weighty 
pack,  sustained  by  a  broad  strap  extending 
around  the  shoulders  and  chest.  Relieving  him 
self  of  his  burden  and  directing  Joe  where  to  put 
up  the  "A"  tent  which  it  contained,  Burton  en 
tered  Ferris's  tent  and  examined  his  head  and 
arm. 

"  I  think  the  chances  are  largely  in  favor  of 
your  recovery,"  he  said  with  a  smile  as  he  finished. 

"  Not  if  I  have  to  stay  in  bed  any  longer," 
answered  Ferris  rather  impatiently. 

"  Tut,  tut,  man,  a  fracture  of  the  radius  should 
be  good  for  at  least  ten  days'  attendance,  from  a 
professional  standpoint.  Would  you  have  me 
belittle  the  science  of  surgery  by  permitting  you 
to  get  up  at  the  end  of  the  fourth  day?  How 
ever,  as  I  have  no  license  to  practice  in  this 
state  and  there  are  no  fellow-practitioners  in 
the  immediate  neighborhood  to  criticise  my 
treatment  of  your  case,  I  will  risk  the  charge  of 
malpractice  and  breach  of  professional  ethics, 
and  allow  you  to  dress." 

In  a  short  time,  with  the  assistance  of  Bur 
ton,  he  got  into  his  clothes,  and  the  two  walked 
along  the  shore  together.  During  his  absence 
Burton  had  gone  to  Keating,  and  he  reported 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  Ill 

to  Ferris  that  the  little  town  had  returned  to  its 
normal  condition  of  quiet  industry. 

"  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the  sheriff  of 
the  county  escort  Tim  Finney  and  his  right- 
hand  man,  Dutchy,  to  the  train  in  irons,  and  a 
more  villainous  looking  couple  I  never  saw." 

"  I  am  gratified  to  know  that  this  county  has 
a  sheriff.  We  certainly  had  no  occasion  to  sus 
pect  the  existence  of  such  an  official  during  the 
strike." 

"Oh  !  it  was  not  for  any  part  he  played  in  the 
strike  that  Tim  was  arrested.  Our  sheriff  is  far 
too  good  a  politician  for  that.  It  was  discov 
ered  that  it  was  Finney  and  his  man  who  robbed 
the  superintendent  of  the  Denton  mines  last 
week,  and  such  a  crime  our  sheriff  regards  as  far 
more  heinous  than  the  attempt  to  wreck  the 
plant  of  a  corporation,  even  if  the  latter  offense 
might  endanger  the  lives  of  its  hirelings.  I  saw 
your  mail-boy  also,  and  found  him  as  lively  as 
a  cricket.  As  I  was  leaving  the  town,  a  little 
woman  stopped  me  and  said  that  my  patient,  Jack 
Turnley,  was  much  better,  and  with  many  blushes 
added  that  they  'would  be  married  next  month,' 
if  Jack  got  back  his  job." 

"He  shall  have  it,  then,"  said  Ferris,  after  a 
moment's  pause,  during  which  he  saw  a  small  boat 
put  out  from  the  opposite  shore  and  recognized 
the  trim  figure  of  its  occupant. 


112  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"  Is  not  that  rather  a  treasonable  remark  from 
such  a  confirmed  bachelor  ?  " 

"Perhaps,"  answered  Ferris;  "but  you  see  I 
have  not  altogether  recovered  yet." 

Continuing  their  walk  a  half  mile  further, 
they  came  to  a  deserted  logging  road  that  ran 
to  the  lake  where  it  was  overgrown  with  berry 
bushes.  Against  the  stump  of  an  old  pine  tree 
that  stood  by  its  side,  leaned  a  rifle,  with  a  cart 
ridge  belt  hanging  across  the  muzzle. 

"  This  is  Tom  Moulton's  idea  of  hunting," 
said  Ferris,  as  they  turned  into  the  wood. 

"  Or  this,"  said  Burton,  with  a  smile,  point 
ing  farther  up  the  road  where  it  ran  into  the 
heavy  timber  and  was  free  from  underbrush. 

There  on  the  trunk  of  a  tree  that  had  fallen 
across  the  road,  Helen  was  sitting,  reading  aloud 
from  her  novel,  while  at  her  feet  Moulton  was 
stretched  on  the  ground  with  his  chin  resting 
on  his  hands  and  looking  very  intently  at  the 
fair  reader. 

"  Do  you  suppose  that  man  has  any  idea  that 
it  is  nearly  time  for  luncheon  ?  "  asked  Burton. 

"  A  week  ago  I  should  have  said  'yes,'  for 
Tom  has  usually  a  vigorous  and  exacting  appe 
tite  ;  but  I  am  beginning  to  doubt  whether  such 
material  things  seem  so  important  to  him  now 
as  they  did." 

As  they  drew  near,  Helen  heard    them,  and 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  113 

looked  up  from   her  book.     Seeing  Ferris  and 
Burton,  she  came  toward  them. 

"  I  am  delighted  to  see  you  out  again,  Mr. 
Ferris,  and  to  have  you  with  us,  Doctor,"  she 
said.  "  Have  you  any  cure  for  laziness?"  she 
added,  as  Moulton  slowly  rose  and  shook  hands 
with  Burton. 

"  If  it  is  uncomplicated  with  other  diseases, 
there  is  nothing  better  than  absolute  rest." 

"  Thanks,  Doctor,  that  is  a  most  excellent  pre 
scription,  and  one  I  can  easily  fill  here." 

"But  not  just  now,  Tom,"  said  Ferris,  "for 
you  must  go  back  to  luncheon,  and  must  lug 
the  rifle  and  cartridge  belt,  if  bruin  has  not  car 
ried  them  off." 

"  Why,  really,  I  had  no  idea  it  was  so  late," 
said  Moulton,  looking  at  his  watch.  "  How  time 
does  slip  away  here." 

"When  one  is  hunting,"  added  Ferris. 
"  Where  is  your  rifle  ?" 

"Let  me  see,  I  think  I  stood  it  against  a  tree, 
when  we  went  to  pick  berries.  Where  did  we 
put  it,  Miss  Whitney  ?  " 

"  Never  mind,  Tom,  we  will  get  it  as  we  go 
along." 

When  they  reached  camp,  they  found  that 
Madge  had  already  returned.  On  the  front  pole 
of  the  men's  tent  hung  a  single  duck.  Ferris 
did  not  notice  it  until  he  heard  Burton  exclaim: 


114  °UT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"  Hello  !  This  is  a  beauty.  And  a  genuine  dusky 
old  drake,"  he  added,  as  he  examined  the  black 
bill  and  feet  of  the  mallard. 

"  Are  you  enough  of  a  taxidermist,  Doctor, 
to  save  that  skin  for  me?"  asked  Ferris,  as  he 
saw  what  a  fine  specimen  it  was.  "  I  should  like 
to  have  it  mounted." 

"O,  yes,  that  is  very  simple,"  answered  Bur 
ton,  "but  you  should  have  the  mate  to  go  with 
it." 

Just  then  Madge  appeared  from  her  tent, 
where  she  had  changed  her  shooting  coat  for  a 
blue  jacket. 

"I  am  glad  you  were  not  with  me,  Uncle 
Tom,  when  I  made  that  shot.  You  would  have 
been  ashamed  of  your  pupil.  I  had  a  beautiful 
chance  for  a  right  and  left  in  the  little  lake  be 
yond  the  river.  With  the  right,  I  got  this  old 
fellow,  and  I  thought  at  first  I  had  his  mate  with 
the  left,  but  she  rose  over  the  timber  and  disap 
peared  in  the  direction  of  Bass  Lake,  where  Mr. 
Whitney  is  shooting.  What  an  enthusiast  he  is! 
I  left  him  munching  crackers,  as  he  preferred  to 
miss  luncheon  and  wait  for  the  evening  flight. 
He  has  had  little  chance  to  shoot  ducks  before, 
and  seems  fascinated  with  it." 

"I  am  not  surprised,"  said  Ferris,  "for  there 
is  no  sport  to  equal  it.  Until  three  years  ago  I 
had  never  shot  a  duck,  although  I  had  hunted  a 


OUT   OF   THE    WOODS.  Il5 

great  deal  for  larger  game.  There  is  a  variety 
and  excitement  about  it  that  one  cannot  find  in 
field  shooting,  or  in  the  mountains." 

"  Miss  Seaton  will  agree  with  you,  I  am  sure," 
said  Burton.  "  It  is  one  of  the  points  on  which 
she  and  I  differ,  as  I  prefer  the  rifle  to  the  shot 
gun  always." 

"  He  says  it  is  more  exact,"  said  Madge. 
"  Uncle  is  nothing,  if  not  exact.  He  always  in 
sists  on  eliminating  the  element  of  chance, 
while,  for  my  part,  I  depend  upon  it  largely.  It 
has  saved  the  reputation  of  many  a  poor  sports 
man  like  myself." 

Soon  after  luncheon,  Helen  joined  Mrs. 
Elting  in  the  tent.  Burton,  in  his  methodical 
way,  went  to  bed,  to  catch  up  his  lost  sleep,  and 
Moulton  wandered  down  the  lake  shore  for  a 
swim.  Ferris  was  enjoying  the  soft  September 
air  in  an  easy  camp  chair  on  the  edge  of  the 
bluff,  watching  the  shadows  on  the  still  water  of 
the  slowly  drifting  clouds,  when  Madge  appeared 
with  a  novel  under  her  arm. 

"You  are  feeling  quite  well  again,  are  you 
not,  Mr.  Ferris  ?  " 

"If  I  say  yes,  will  it  deprive  me  of  sharing 
your  book  with  you  ?"  he  answered. 

"  If  you  knew  what  it  is,  I  fear  you  would 
prefer  to  escape  it.  It  is  a  light  novel,  but  full  of 
excitement,  I  am  told.  I  have  not  yet  begun  it." 


Il6  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"What  else  should  novels  be?"  said 
Ferris.  "  For  my  part,  it  is  the  kind  I  most 
thoroughly  enjoy.  I  think  the  first  object  of  a 
novel  should  be  to  entertain  the  reader.  If 
incidentally  it  can  administer  a  modest  amount 
of  instruction  sufficiently  disguised,  that  is  not 
bad  ;  but  unfortunately,  so  many  of  the  novel 
ists  of  to  day  seem  to  confound  their  mission 
with  that  of  the  sociologist,  the  clergyman,  the 
moralist,  and  the  general  pedagogue,  that  the 
leaven  of  excitement  is  not  sufficient  to  raise  the 
mass  of  general  dullness.  Now  that  I  have  given 
my  views  so  frankly,  may  I  ask  the  name  of 
your  book?" 

"It  is  'That  Lass  o'  Lowrie's,'  by  Frances 
Hodgson  Burnett.  It  was  recommended  to  me 
by  Mr.  Kennedy,  who  claims  the  writer  as  a 
country-woman  of  his." 

"That  is  true  in  part  only,"  answered  Ferris, 
"  as  she  came  to  this  country  when  a  mere  child. 
I  have  been  waiting  for  a  chance  to  read  the 
book,  and  am  delighted  that  you  should  have  it. 
Won't  you  sit  here  and  read?" 

"  No,  thank  you,  I  will  take  the  hammock." 

Arranging  the  pillows  so  that  she  could  get 
a  view  of  the  lake,  Madge  began  to  read.  Her 
voice  was  low  and  musical,  and  she  read  with 
distinctness,  for  she  had  long  been  accustomed 
to  reading  aloud  to  old  Miss  Burton,  whose  eye- 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  117 

sight  was  very  poor.  It  was  a  novel  sensation 
for  Ferris  to  be  read  to  thus,  and  altogether  de 
lightful.  He  closed  his  eyes  as  he  listened  in 
dreamy  mood,  with  one  hand  above  his  head; 
and  while  he  kept  the  thread  of  the  story,  he 
time  and  again  found  his  thoughts  wandering 
off  on  little  castle-building  excursions  quite  un 
like  anything  he  had  known  before.  Yet  he  al 
ways  "heard  the  music,  though  he  missed  the 
tune." 

Suddenly  Madge  ceased  reading,  and  glanc 
ing  up,  Ferris  saw  tears  in  her  eyes.  She  was 
looking  out  over  the  lake,  and  the  book  lay 
closed  on  her  lap. 

"What  is  it?  "  he  asked  gently. 

"Nothing,  absolutely  nothing  but  my  own 
silly  imagination,"  she  answered.  "  Yet,  while 
1  read,  this  is  not  fiction  for  me ;  it  is  reality. 
For  the  time,  I  know  that  woman's  heart, —  we 
are  one.  But  it  has  passed  now,"  she  added, 
swinging  herself  lightly  from  the  hammock. 
"  Let  me  show  you  that  I  am  made  of  sterner 
stuff ;  I  will  take  you  around  the  lake  in  ray 
canoe,  that  you  may  see  how  beautiful  it  is." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  little  boat  started,  with 
Ferris  seated  on  a  low  thwart,  facing  the  bow, 
and  Madge  kneeling  behind  him,  in  her  favorite 
position  when  paddling.  The  boat  glided 
steadily  under  her  easy  strokes  and  soon  swung 


Il8  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

toward  the  shore.  As  they  moved  through  the 
tall  rushes  that  fringed  the  beach,  Ferris  thought 
they  would  land,  but  beyond  these  they  came  to 
a  little  pond  of  clear  water  on  one  side  of  which 
was  the  outlet  of  the  lake. 

"Are  you  fond  of  bass  fishing,  Mr.  Ferris?" 
asked  Madge,  as  she  checked  the  boat  with  her 
paddle. 

"Very,"  he  answered;  "  but  they  will  not  rise 
to  the  fly  so  early  in  the  season  as  this,  I  im 
agine." 

"  Perhaps  not,  but  I  remember  when  I  was 
here  last,  that  at  this  outlet  they  rose  even  ear 
lier.  Give  me  the  rod  and  fly  book,  and  let  us 
see  if  the  same  eccentric  school  of  fish  is  still 
here." 

She  jointed  the  rod,  and  running  the  line 
through  the  rings,  attached  a  leader  with  three 
tempting  flies  of  gaudy  color. 

"That  is  the  same  cast  I  used  the  last  time  I 
was  here.  Will  you  try  it?  I  will  help  you  if 
you  get  a  strike." 

"  No,  let  me  watch  you." 

Away  flew  the  flies  toward  the  further  side  of 
the  pond,  and  slowly  Madge  wound  in  the  line. 
As  it  neared  the  boat,  there  was  a  splash,  but  the 
fish  was  wary.  Again  the  flies  dropped  lightly, 
farther  out,  and  scarcely  had  they  touched  the 
water  when  they  disappeared,  and  the  slender  rod 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  IIQ 

bent  under  the  strain  of  the  line  as  it  was  drawn 
rapidly  from  the  reel. 

"Bravo!  You  have  him,"  exclaimed  Ferris. 

"  Not  yet,"  she  answered,  watching  the  line 
intently,  "see  him  jump."  As  she  spoke,  the 
fish  darted  toward  the  boat  and  rose  clear  two 
feet  above  the  water,  shaking  the  hook  from  his 
mouth. 

"  He  deserves  his  freedom,  for  that  was  clev 
erly  done,"  exclaimed  Madge,  slowly  winding 
in  the  line. 

"  Let  us  try  once  more,  and  I  think  I  can 
show  you  how  we  may  foil  him  if  he  attempt 
the  same  trick  again,"  answered  Ferris ;  and 
taking  the  rod,  he  explained  how  the  line  should 
be  kept  taut  when  the  fish  leaped  from  the  water. 
The  next  casts  were  more  successful,  and  soon 
four  fine  bass  were  captured. 

"You  see  we  can  accomplish  more  together 
than  alone,"  said  Ferris,  as  Madge  turned 
the  boat  toward  the  lake  ;  and  as  he  spoke  he 
realized,  that  without  meaning  to  do  so,  he  was 
giving  voice  to  another  thought  than  that  to 
which  his  words  applied. 

"Yes,  while  you  are  disabled,"  she  answered, 
and  as  his  eyes  met  hers,  he  saw  that  she,  at  least, 
was  thinking  only  of  the  fishing. 

The  sun  was  setting  behind  the  woods  as  they 
neared  the  camp,  and  the  little  white  tents  stood 


I2O  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

out  in  bold  relief  against  the  green  and  brown 
background  of  the  trees.  A  thread  of  smoke 
was  rising  from  the  cook's  tent,  and  they  could 
see  old  Dan'l  moving  busily  about  preparing  the 
evening  meal. 

"Captain  Vinton  has  returned,"  said  Madge, 
quickening  her  stroke.  "And  he  has  been  suc 
cessful,  too.  Do  you  see  the  deer  hanging  from 
the  fallen  tree  on  the  shore  beyond  the  camp? 
How  pleased  he  must  be." 

As  their  boat  touched  the  landing,  Vinton 
came  from  his  tent,  and  hurrying  toward  them, 
called  to  Ferris: 

"You  can  never  jeer  at  my  marksmanship 
again,  my  boy,  for  I  got  that  fine  old  buck  with 
a  single  shot,  and  he  was  on  the  jump.  Isn't  he 
a  beauty? " 

"Truly,  Uncle  Phil,  and  in  the  blue  coat  too. 
I  congratulate  you.  Did  Joe  have  a  rifle  also?" 

"  Come  now,  Bob,  I  must  resent  that  insinu 
ation.  I  suppose  that  when  I  have  the  head 
mounted,  I  must  accompany  it  with  Joe's  affida 
vit  that  I  was  the  sole  slayer.  Miss  Seaton,  I 
shall  present  it  to  you,  if  you  can  find  a  place 
for  it  among  your  many  trophies." 

"Indeed,  it  shall  have  the  place  of  honor,  and 
I  will  not  require  the  affidavit,"  answered  Madge, 
looking  with  mock  severity  at  Ferris. 

"  But  you  must  confess,  Uncle  Phil,  that  your 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  121 

past  record  does  not  justify  any  great  degree  of 
confidence  in  your  skill  with  the  rifle." 

"Never  mind  that.  I  am  just  beginning;  a 
trifle  late  in  life,  I  confess ;  but  I  have  felt 
younger — yes,  and  happier — since  I  came  here 
than  in  many  years.  And,"  he  added,  with  a 
touch  of  feeling  in  the  tone,  "I  have  this  little 
woman  to  thank,  in  great  part,  for  it." 

Ferris  noticed  a  slight  tinge  of  color  come 
into  Madge's  cheek,  and  saw  the  pleasure  Vin- 
ton's  words  gave  her. 

While  confined  to  his  tent,  he  had  observed 
that  she  and  Vinton  were  much  together  and 
enjoyed  each  other  thoroughly,  yet  it  had  never 
occurred  to  him  to  question  that  the  feeling  be 
tween  them  might  be  other  than  one  of  good 
comradeship,  for  Vinton  was  more  than  twenty 
years  her  senior  and  seemed  even  older.  Now  it 
came  to  him  that  their  fondness  for  each  other 
might  mean  something  more  than  good-fellow 
ship,  and  that  to  Vinton,  perhaps,  had  at  last 
come  that  feeling  with  which  even  the  oldest 
hearts  grow  young  ;  and  although  he  loved  him 
above  all  other  men,  the  thought  was  uncom 
fortable,  and  he  tried  to  put  it  away. 

While  they  were  admiring  Vinton's  buck, 
Helen  and  Moulton  came  from  the  woods  and 
joined  them. 

"Perhaps  you  might  have  been  as  lucky,  if 


122  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

you  had  been  more  energetic  and  gone  hunting 
with  Captain  Vinton  this  morning,"  she  said  to 
Moulton. 

"No  doubt  of  it,"  he  answered;  "but  you 
know  the  rule  of  our  camp  is,  we  shall  shoot  only 
what  meat  we  can  use,  and  Captain  Vinton  had 
his  heart  set  on  getting  a  buck,  while  I  am  not 
so  enthusiastic  a  hunter.  You  should  commend 
my  unselfishness.  I  am  very  well  satisfied  with 
my  day — thanks  to  you." 

It  had  not  occurred  to  Ferris  to  speak  to 
Madge  of  the  pleasure  she  had  given  him,  and 
yet  he  was  conscious  it  had  been  the  happiest 
day  he  had  ever  known.  He  was  annoyed  at 
himself  to  think  he  had  not  had  the  thoughtful- 
ness  to  express  his  appreciation,  and  he  was  about 
to  do  so  when  she  called  his  attention  to  Whit 
ney,  who  was  coming  along  the  shore  with  gun 
in  hand  and  a  bunch  of  ducks  swung  over  his 
shoulder. 

"Here  comes  our  enthusiast.  Let  us  see 
what  he  has,"  she  said,  going  toward  him. 

"  Hello !  Bob,  glad  to  see  you  up,"  said 
Whitney,  as  they  joined  him.  "  What  a  day  I've 
had.  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  what  duck  shoot 
ing  is?  I  feel  as  if  I  had  wasted  about  ten  years 
of  my  life.  Jove!  but  I'm  hungry." 

Ferris  examined  the  ducks  as  Whitney  trudged 


OUT   OF   THE    WOODS.  123 

along  beneath  their  weight  —  for  there  were 
twenty  in  all. 

"Are  they  all  wood  duck?"  he  asked. 

"No,  there  are  several  teal,  a  merganser,  and 
one  that  I  do  not  know  at  all,  nor  can  I  claim 
the  credit  of  having  shot  it.  It  simply  died  a  natu 
ral  death,  and  selected  my  vicinity  for  that  pur 
pose.  When  Miss  Seaton  joined  me  this  morn 
ing  I  had  shot  only  four  ;  I  couldn't  get  into  the 
line  of  flight ;  I  had  no  decoys,  but  with  four 
sharp  sticks  she  set  up  my  dead  birds  so  that 
they  made  the  best  of  decoys.  Commend  me 
to  fair  woman  for  methods  of  deception." 

At  the  landing  Whitney  counted  over  and 
laid  out  his  birds  with  the  enthusiasm  of  a  juve 
nile  sportsman. 

"  That  is  my  unknown  ugly  duckling,"  he 
said.  "What  is  it?"  "  A  dusky  mallard,"  an 
swered  Ferris,  "and  it  probably  died  of  a  broken 
heart,  as  its  companion  was  shot  by  Miss  Seaton 
this  morning.  Give  it  to  me,  Merrick,  and  I 
shall  have  them  mounted,  that  they  may  be  re 
united." 

"  I  disclaim  the  ownership  of  a  bird  slain  in 
such  a  peculiarly  feminine  way,"  said  Whitney. 
"  But  take  it,  Bob  ;  it  may  remind  you  what  a 
dangerous  person  Miss  Seaton  is." 

"Or,  better  still,  that  our  game  is  not  always 


124  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

lost  when  we  think  it  is,"  added  Burton,  as  he 
joined  them  with  Mrs.  Elting. 

Ferris  colored  slightly  as  he  took  the  bird, 
and  said  : 

"At  any  rate,  it  will  remind  me  of  a  most  en 
joyable  day." 

It  seemed  to  him  a  silly  little  speech,  and  so 
conventional,  and  he  wished  that  he  had  kept 
silent.  It  had  indeed  been  the  happiest  day  he 
had  ever  known,  and  while  he  did  not  mean  to 
tell  Madge  this,  he  had  hoped  to  express  to  her 
in  a  less  commonplace  way  his  enjoyment. 

At  dinner  he  sat  opposite  Madge,  whose  seat 
was  between"  Vinton  and  Burton.  She  was  in 
high  spirits,  as  indeed  were  all  the  others  ex 
cept  himself.  For  some  unaccountable  reason 
he  was  beginning  to  feel  depressed,  and  al 
though  he  endeavored  to  join  in  the  general 
good-fellowship,  he  realized  that  he  was  failing 
hopelessly,  and  finally  abandoned  the  attempt. 
Again  and  again  he  found  the  thought  recurring 
that  possibly  Vinton  and  Madge  loved  each 
other,  for  they  seemed  so  entirely  happy  to 
gether,  and  her  freedom  with  him  was  scarcely 
less  than  with  her  uncle. 

"  Can  you  imagine  anything  more  delightful 
than  this  ?"  he  heard  her  say  to  Vinton.  "  How 
beautiful  this  place  is.  I  did  not  know  I  loved 
it  so.  See  the  exquisite  cloud-tints;  and  the 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  125 

pines  on  the  other  shore,  mirrored  as  sharply  in 
the  water  as  they  appear  against  the  horizon.  Ah, 
there  is  no  place  like  the  woods!  " 

"  True,  indeed,"  answered  Vinton.  "A  gen 
uine  love  of  the  woods  is  never  unrequited. 
We  may  tire  of  city  life,  of  travel,  of  too  many 
people,  or  too  few,  but  when  we  come  back  to 
the  woods,  we  can  shed  our  cares  as  the  trees 
their  withered  leaves,  and  take  into  our 
lives  a  new  happiness.  But  where  is  your  en 
thusiasm,  Bob?"  he  asked,  speaking  to  Ferris. 
"  I  never  knew  you  silent  before  when  the 
praises  of  the  woods  were  being  sung." 

"  Even  the  woods  can  't  make  one  unmindful 
of  a  broken  arm,  Uncle,  particularly  if  its  owner 
must  do  justice  to  so  good  a  dinner  single- 
handed,"  answered  Ferris,  rather  wearily. 

"I  am  afraid,  Madge  dear,  that  you  have 
not  proved  a  very  good  nurse  to-day.  You 
have  allowed  your  invalid  to  overtax  his 
strength,"  said  Mrs.  Elting. 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  answered  Madge.  "I 
should  have  been  more  thoughtful." 

"  Not  at  all,  Miss  Seaton,  I  am  not  tired,  and 
my  arm  is  simply  inconvenient,  not  painful." 

But  it  was  plain  to  Ferris  that  the  others 
thought  him  tired,  and  he  was  glad  of  the  ex 
cuse  to  go  to  his  tent  soon  after  the  dinner. 
That  he  was  miserable  there  was  no  doubt,  al- 


126  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

though  he  could  not  account  for  it.  He  lay  on 
the  bed  with  the  blankets  drawn  over  him,  for 
the  air  was  chilly,  and  through  the  open  front 
of  his  tent  watched  the  others  gathered  round 
the  roaring  camp-fire  that  blazed  and  crackled 
as  it  threw  its  myriad  stars  high  into  the  leafy 
shadows. 

Helen  and  Moulton  were  sitting  on  a  low 
bench  facing  him.  That  they  were  very  happy 
was  beyond  question  ;  and  while  he  could  not 
hear  their  conversation,  he  could  catch  occa 
sional  snatches  of  song  and  the  strum  of  the 
banjo,  as  Moulton  alone,  or  with  Helen,  sang 
some  light  tune. 

Vinton  and  Madge  were  nearer  to  him,  with 
their  backs  toward  his  tent,  but  he  could  see 
that  they  were  absorbed  in  each  other  and 
rarely  spoke  to  the  others.  Burton  was  evi 
dently  entertaining  Mrs.  Elting  with  an  account 
of  the  labor  troubles,  for  the  little  woman's 
face  was  brilliant  with  excitement  and  interest. 
Whitney  was  interviewing  Joe  at  the  cook's  tent 
about  the  local  geography  and  the  best  places 
for  finding  game,  for  they  were  to  hunt  together 
in  the  morning. 

Watching  the  others  thus  was  diverting  for  a 
time,  but  Ferris  found  himself  growing  more 
and  more  restless  and  uncomfortable.  "  Bob 
Ferris,  you  are  a  fool,"  he  said  at  length,  in  a 


OUT   OF   THE    WOODS.  127 

half  undertone,  and  throwing  off  the  blankets, 
got  up  and  lowered  the  flaps  of  his  tent.  In  a 
moment  Burton  appeared,  and  after  helping  him 
to  get  ready  for  bed,  examined  his  broken  arm. 

"  I  hope  you  find  my  arm  doing  well, 
Doctor,  for  I  think  I  shall  start  for  the  town 
to-morrow.  May  I  break  the  journey  at  your 
cabin?" 

"Nonsense,  man,  you  can't  go  to-morrow. 
You'll  not  be  in  shape  to  travel  for  several  days 
at  least.  Besides,  you've  had  no  chance  for 
pleasure  yet,  and  are  just  getting  to  a  point 
where  you  can  enjoy  yourself.  You  should 
spend  a  week  here,  and  you  will  find  it  an  im 
mense  help  to  you." 

"  Nevertheless,  I  think  I  shall  make  the  start, 
if  you  will  let  me  take  your  Indian  to-morrow. 
I  am  good  for  so  short  a  journey,  I  am  sure." 

"  If  you  are  determined,  I  shall  go  with  you 
myself,  although  I  had  intended  to  remain  sev 
eral  days  longer.  Seriously,  Ferris,  you  should 
not  go  before  Monday,  and  I  trust  you  will  wait 
and  go  with  me." 

Ferris  hesitated  a  moment,  and  said  :  "  If  you 
insist  upon  it  I  will  wait." 

"  I  must  insist,"  answered  Burton  ;  "  there 
would  certainly  be  a  risk  in  your  going  sooner." 

As  Burton  was  leaving  the  tent,  Ferris  said : 
"  Please  do  not  mention  my  going  ;  I  told  Cap- 


128  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

tain  Vinton  yesterday  I  would  probably  remain 
a  week  longer." 

Soon  after  this  the  party  about  the  camp- 
fire  broke  up,  and  Moulton,  humming  a  lively 
air,  came  into  the  tent.  Ferris  was  in  no  mood 
to  talk,  and  closing  his  eyes,  pretended  to 
sleep. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  world  was  moving  happily  with  Tom 
Moulton,  and  he  appreciated  the  fact. 
He  had  made  the  discovery  that  he  was  very 
much  in  love  with  Helen,  but  it  did  not  disturb 
him  seriously.  "Be  philosophical,  Thomas,"  he 
said  to  himself,  "she  can't  possibly  get  away 
from  you  for  three  weeks  yet ;  therefore,  enjoy 
so  much  of  life,  at  least,  and  don't  precipitate 
the  possibility  of  misery  by  a  proposal.  If  she 
cares  for  you,  she  won't  change,  and  if  she 
doesn't,  you  will  discover  it  soon  enough.  Don't 
inflict  too  much  of  your  society  upon  her.  Give 
her  a  chance  to  realize  by  your  absence  what  a 
good  comrade  you  are." 

It  was  in  keeping  with  this  plan  that  he  ac 
cepted  Whitney's  invitation  to  join  him  and  Joe 
in  an  effort  to  find  a  bear  on  the  following 
morning. 

At  break  of  day  Joe  slipped  into  the  tent  and 
waked  them. 

"  Get  up,  Tom,"  said  Whitney  softly,  that  he 
might  not  disturb  Ferris.  "  We  must  start  in  a 
half  hour." 

129 


I3O  OUT   OF   THE    WOODS. 

"Go  ahead  without  me,  Merrick,"  he  an 
swered  sleepily.  "  I  shouldn't  know  a  bear  from 
a  Newfoundland  dog  at  this  hour.  Besides,  it's 
beastly  cold." 

"You'll  feel  all  right  when  you  have  had  a 
cup  of  hot  coffee.  Come,  get  up." 

"What  a  fool  I  was  to  join  such  an  enter 
prise.  I  never  did  care  for  bear  hunting.  Don't 
you  think  it  would  be  much  more  sensible  to 
wait  about  three  hours,  get  a  decent  bath  and 
breakfast,  and  then  start  out  ?  Bears  have  to 
stay  some  place.  They  don't  disappear  from  the 
face  of  the  earth  ;  so  why  can't  we  find  them 
later  as  well  as  now?  " 

"Nonsense,"  answered  Whitney;  "get  up, 
and  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it  as  we  go  along." 

Moulton  did  get  up,  but  he  dressed  so  leis 
urely  that  Joe  came  to  the  tent  several  times  to 
urge  greater  haste.  His  plan,  as  outlined  to 
Whitney  the  night  before,  was  to  visit  a  deserted 
logging  camp,  some  three  miles  away,  where  he 
had  a  few  days  before  noticed  that  a  bear  had 
been  digging  about  the  swill  spout.  Failing  to 
find  one  there,  they  were  to  follow  down  the 
river  to  a  swamp,  through  which  they  would 
hunt,  and  return  by  way  of  the  old  camp  about 
sunset. 

Dan'l  had  prepared  their  lunches  the  night 
before,  and  after  a  light  breakfast  they  started 


OUT    OF   THE    WOODS.  13! 

across  the  lake  over  which  the  fog  was  hanging 
so  dense  as  to  obscure  the  opposite  shore. 

"  Merrick,"  said  Moulton,  as  he  settled  him 
self  in  the  bow  of  the  boat,  "  there  is  something 
radically  wrong  about  a  man  who  can  deliber 
ately  do  this  sort  of  thing.  Have  you  com 
mitted  any  especially  heinous  crime,  that  you 
should  select  this  particular  mode  of  penance?" 

"  Wait  until  you  catch  a  glimpse  of  bruin, 
and  you  will  forget  that  you  missed  your  morn 
ing  nap,"  answered  Whitney.  "  Think  of  the 
halo  of  glory  that  will  surround  you  when 
you  tell  at  the  Club  how  you  slipped  out, 
careless  like,  before  breakfast  and  shot  your 
first  bear." 

"All  right,"  said  Moulton,  as  he  lit  his  pipe; 
"but  if  that  bear  does  not  materialize,  I  shall 
consider  that  I  owe  you  a  lasting  grudge." 

The  eastern  sky  was  growing  crimson  with 
the  rising  sun  as  they  drew  their  boat  on  the 
beach  and  hurried  through  .the  woods.  As  they 
neared  the  old  camp,  Joe  motioned  to  them  to 
stop,  while  he  went  cautiously  ahead ;  for  not 
withstanding  his  care  in  avoiding  twigs  and 
bushes,  Moulton  made  much  noise  as  he  walked. 
In  a  few  moments  the  Indian  returned.  "Too 
bad,"  he  said,  "we  too  late.  Bear  gone.  Big 
one  and  cub." 

"  Did  you  notice  any  signs,  Joe,  that  would 


132  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

indicate  whether  they  would  return  soon,  or  had 
moved  into  the  next  county?  "  said  Moulton. 

"Them  go  to  swamp.  We  get  'em  there  or 
here  to-night,  maybe,"  replied  the  Indian. 

"Ye  gods  !  Must  we  live  on  the  pleasures  of 
hope  all  day?" 

.  As  they  passed  near  the  camp,  Joe  pointed 
out  where  the  bear  had  torn  up  the  earth  near 
the  swill  spout,  and  the  fresh  tracks  of  the  great 
claws  in  the  soft  dirt  aroused  a  degree  of  enthu 
siasm  even  in  Moulton.  But  this  ebbed  after 
tramping  an  hour  or  so  along  the  river  bank, 
and  when  the  edge  of  the  swamp  was  reached, 
he -decided  to  let  Whitney  and  Joe  continue  the 
hunt,  while  he  waited  for  them  either  there  or  at 
the  deserted  camp. 

"  You  can't  miss  getting  to  the  old  camp  from 
here,  but  don't  leave  it  until  we  come,  for  you 
could  never  find  your  way  from  there  to  the 
lake,"  said  Whitney,  as  he  started  with  Joe  into 
the  swamp. 

Moulton  watched  them  clambering  through 
underbrush  and  over  fallen  timber  until  they 
were  out  of  sight.  Then  looking  at  his  watch, 
he  discovered  that  it  was  only  nine  o'clock.  He 
shook  the  watch  and  put  it  to  his  ear.  "  Heav 
ens!"  he  said  half  aloud,  as  he  found  the  watch 
running,  "can  it  be  possible?  I  thought  it 
was  at  least  noon.  How  am  I  to  kill  the  time 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  133 

till  five, — eight  hours  !  Tom  Moulton,  you  're  an 
idiot." 

Seating  himself  on  a  fallen  tree  trunk,  he 
slowly  filled  his  pipe  and  began  planning  how 
he  might  best  divide  the  time  until  his  fellow 
hunters  returned.  Through  the  green  of  the 
timber,  between  where  he  sat  and  the  river,  he 
saw  a  bright  patch  of  crimson,  a  single  maple 
that  had  already  taken  on  the  glory  of  the 
autumn  coloring.  He  rested  his  gun  against 
the  log.  He  knew  some  one  who  might,  he 
thought,  be  pleased  with  a  bunch  of  those  bright 
leaves,  and  in  a  little  while  he  had  gathered 
them  and  added  a  few  ferns  and  an  orchid  that 
he  found  on  the  edge  of  the  swamp.  Taking 
his  rifle  again,  he  followed  lazily  up  the  river, 
startling  a  covey  of  spruce  grouse,  which,  with  a 
succession  of  sudden  whirrs,  rose  from  almost 
beneath  his  feet  and  perched  in  the  pines  in 
front  of  him.  "Now,"  thought  Moulton,  "if 
I  were  as  expert  as  Miss  Seaton,  I  might  skill 
fully  decapitate  a  few  of  them  and  take  their 
unscathed  bodies  back  to  camp.  As  it  is,  I 
should  probably  miss  altogether,  or  tear  the 
bodies  to  atoms,  leaving  the  heads  as  sad  re 
minders  of  my  bad  marksmanship.  I  will  ignore 
such  small  game.  I  am  bear  hunting." 

It  was  nearly  noon  when  he  reached  the  cabin. 
Finding  a  chair  of  boards  rudely  but  comfortably 


134  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

made,  with  an  inclined  back,  such  as  are  common 
to  all  lumber  camps,  he  stretched  himself  on  it, 
and  from  his  shell-bag  took  such  luncheon  as  he 
wanted.  But  he  was  not  very  hungry,  and  the 
meal  was  soon  finished.  He  had  never  seen  a 
lumber  camp  before,  and  he  began  now  to  inves 
tigate  with  interest  the  remains  of  this  one.  Along 
each  side  of  the  room,  the  log  walls  of  which 
were  chinked  with  moss  and  clay,  extended  two 
rows  of  bunks  partially  filled  with  hay  and  with 
ered  hemlock  boughs — rough  beds,  but  welcome 
enough  to  men  who  have  toiled  twelve  hours,  in 
snow  to  the  waist,  with  the  thermometer  below 
zero.  At  one  corner  of  the  cabin  was  a  little 
room  partitioned  off  for  the  camp  foreman,  the 
walls  of  which  were  decorated  with  black  and 
colored  prints  of  prize-fighters,  of  actresses  in 
various  stages  of  nudity,  and  with  thrilling  pic 
tures  from  the  "  Police  News"  and  like  periodicals 
that  infest  the  logging  camp.  A  huge  rusty 
stove,  with  its  pipe  projecting  through  the  roof, 
stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  above  it 
were  stretched  wires  on  which  the  men,  in  winter, 
were  accustomed  to  dry,  or  at  least  to  warm,  at 
night  the  reeking  clothing  that  must  be  worn  on 
the  morrow.  On  shelves  above  the  bunks  were 
numerous  bottles,  empty,  or  containing  the  rem 
nants  of  some  patent  medicines  that  only  the 
stomach  of  a  woodsman  could  withstand. 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  135 

"  What  a  commentary  on  the  endurance  of 
human  nature,"  said  Moulton,  as  he  drew  his 
chair  to  the  open  doorway  of  the  cabin  to  escape 
the  odor  of  uncleanliness  that  pervaded  the 
place.  "  It  seems  like  a  great  conspiracy  to  ruin 
men's  bodies  and  souls  alike." 

In  one  of  the  bunks  he  had  found  the  frag 
ments  of  a  trashy  novel,  and  after  attempting  for 
an  hour  to  divert  himself  with  it,  he  threw  it 
aside,  and  drawing  his  cap  down  over  his  eyes 
was  soon  asleep. 

It  was  half-past  four  when  he  awoke  and 
looked  at  his  watch.  As  the  air  was  chill,  he 
decided  to  walk  along  the  river  and  meet  Whit 
ney  and  Joe  on  their  return.  As  he  started  from 
the  cabin,  he  heard  a  noise  like  the  grunt  of  a 
hog,  and  saw  over  the  top  of  an  old  pork  barrel 
that  was  half  buried  in  the  berry  bushes  at  one 
side  of  the  cabin  a  shaggy  black  object  partly 
within  the  barrel.  He  did  not  recognize  the 
creature  at  once  and  started  toward  it  to  get  a 
better  view  ;  but  scarcely  had  he  made  ten  steps 
when  the  head  and  shoulders  of  a  bear  appeared 
above  the  barrel.  In  truth,  the  sight  was  not  a 
pleasant  one,  for  Moulton  knew  that  he  was  no 
rifle  shot,  and  at  such  close  quarters  he  realized 
that  the  bear  could  catch  him  if  disposed  to  do 
so.  But  bruin  evidently  had  no  such  intention, 
and  leisurely  turning  tail  began  to  amble  slowly 


136  OUT    OF   THE    WOODS. 

across  the  clearing  toward  the  woods.  At  the 
same  time  Moulton's  courage  returned,  and  as 
the  bear  scrambled  over  a  fallen  log  on  the  edge 
of  the  timber,  he  aimed  and  fired.  As  the  smoke 
of  the  powder  cleared  away,  he  paused  an  instant 
to  see  if  the  beast  had  turned  upon  him,  but 
finding  that  the  game  had  disappeared,  he  rested 
his  rifle  upon  the  ground  and  said,  as  many  bet 
ter  sportsmen  had  said  before  him  : 

"What  a  fool  I  was  to  let  him  getaway." 
He  was  very  courageous  now,  and,  taking  his 
weapon,  hurried  toward  the  point  where  the  bear 
was  last  seen,  but  he  was  somewhat  uncertain  as  to 
the  exact  spot,  and  was  walking  in  the  direction 
of  the  river  when  he  noticed  patches  of  fresh  blood 
upon  the  ferns  and  bushes.  From  this  he  knew 
that  his  shot  had  taken  effect,  and  he  proceeded 
to  follow  the  trail  of  the  wounded  animal  as  rap 
idly  as  possible.  Through  underbrush,  over  fallen 
logs,  on  high  ground  and  bog,  he  hurried  in  his 
excitement,  regardless  alike  of  time  and  direc 
tion,  now  losing  the  trail  and  again  stopping  for 
an  instant  to  note  the  pools  of  blood  where  the 
bear  had  evidently  paused  or  had  ejected  a  quan 
tity  from  his  mouth. 

How  long  this  chase  continued  he  had  no 
idea,  but  the  end  was  unexpected.  As  he  pressed 
hastily  through  a  clump  of  dense  bushes,  with 
his  head  lowered  and  his  arms  raised  in  front  to 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  137 

protect  his  eyes,  his  foot  encountered  an  obstruc 
tion,  and  he  fell  prone  upon  it.  It  was  the  bear, 
and  fortunately  for  Moulton  it  was  dead.  With 
a  yell  that  would  have  done  credit  to  a  Co- 
manche  Indian,  he  scrambled  off  the  body  and 
through  the  brush,  leaving  his  cap  and  rifle  and 
tearing  his  hands  and  clothing  in  his  mad  flight. 
Nor  did  he  pause  until,  out  of  breath,  he  found 
himself  on  the  swampy  edge  of  a  small  lake. 
When  he  realized  that  the  bear  must  be  dead,  he 
slowly  and  carefully  retraced  his  steps  to  the 
clump  of  bushes  where  the  body  lay,  and  peer 
ing  cautiously  in,  saw  on  it  his  cap  and  rifle  as 
he  had  dropped  them.  He  was  too  much  ex 
hausted  to  give  voice  to  his  triumphant  feeling, 
but  after  making  sure  that  the  breath  of  life  had 
indeed  departed  from  the  great  body,  he  decided 
to  return  to  the  cabin  for  Whitney  and  Joe  to 
assist  in  getting  his  game  into  camp,  and,  that 
he  might  make  better  speed,  left  his  rifle  on  the 
bear.  As  he  tried  to  follow  the  blood-marked 
trail  over  which  he  had  come,  he  realized  for  the 
first  time  that  it  was  growing  late.  Again  and 
again  he  was  forced  to  examine  the  ground 
closely,  and  soon  was  compelled  to  abandon  the 
attempt  altogether,  so  rapidly  did  the  darkness 
come  on.  But  he  believed  that  he  could  find 
his  way  to  the  old  cabin,  and  struck  out  briskly 
in  what  he  conceived  to  be  the  most  direct  line 


138  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

for  it,  nor  did  he  discover  his  error  until  after  a 
rapid  walk  of  a  half  hour  he  found  himself  on 
low  ground,  such  as  he  had  not  passed  over  ex 
cept  by  the  little  lake  near  which  the  bear  had 
fallen. 

Any  one  who  has  had  the  experience  of  being 
lost  in  such  woods  can  appreciate  Moulton's 
feelings  as  he  realized  his  predicament.  But 
he  did  the  wisest  thing  under  the  circumstances  ; 
he  stopped,  and  to  steady  his  nerves  slowly  filled 
his  pipe  and  began  to  smoke. 

It  was  after  five  o'clock  when  Whitney  and 
the  Indian  reached  the  old  logging  camp,  for 
their  tramp  through  the  swamp  had  taken  longer 
than  they  had  intended.  They  had  found  no 
game,  and  as  Whitney  was  tired  and  hungry 
they  decided  to  pick  up  Moulton  and  hurry  on 
to  camp.  When  they  discovered  that  the  cabin 
was  deserted  they  concluded  he  had  gone  back 
to  the  lake.  From  time  to  time  as  they  walked 
rapidly  along,  Joe  stopped  to  examine  the  trail. 

"  Big  fellow  don't  come  this  way,"  he  said 
at  length.  "  He  lost,  maybe." 

"  Nonsense,  Joe,"  replied  Whitney.  "  He 
probably  made  a  bee-line  for  our  camp  as  soon 
as  he  left  us  this  morning." 

But  at  the  shore  of  the  lake  they  found  their 
boat  as  they  had  left  it,  and  no  new  foot-prints 
to  indicate  that  Moulton  had  been  there. 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  139 

"  Perhaps  he  has  gone  back  around  the  shore. 
We  will  paddle  over  and  see,"  said  Whitney; 
and  beginning  to  feel  some  uneasiness  as  to 
Moulton's  whereabouts,  he  took  a  paddle  and 
helped  to  drive  the  canoe  toward  camp  as  quickly 
as  possible. 

The  camp-fire  was  burning  brightly,  and 
through  the  open  end  of  the  dining  tent  they 
could  see  their  party  at  dinner.  But  Moulton 
was  not  in  his  place. 

As  their  boat  touched  the  landing,  Whitney 
hurried  to  the  camp  and  asked  :  "  Where 's 
Moulton?" 

"  He  has  not  returned,"  answered  Burton. 
"  He  was  with  you,  we  thought." 

Whitney  told  briefly  how  Moulton  had  left 
them  in  the  morning,  and  how,  not  finding  him, 
they  concluded  he  had  gone  back  to  camp. 

"  How  could  you  come  back  without  him, 
Merrick?"  said  Helen,  with  mingled  annoyance 
and  anxiety  in  her  tone.  "  You  know  he  is 
utterly  ignorant  of  the  woods,  and  is  just  as  apt 
to  be  going  away  from  camp  as  toward  it." 

"  Now,  Helen  dear,  don't  be  unreasonable. 
I  did  not  lose  him,  but  I  shall  certainly  make 
every  effort  to  find  him,  if  you  will  let  me  have 
some  dinner  first." 

"You  need  not  feel  anxiety,  Miss  Whitney," 
said  Burton.  "  There  is  no  danger  from  wild 


I4O  OUT   OF   THE    WOODS. 

animals  in  these  woods,  and  he  cannot  be  lost 
very  long.  If  he  travels  away  from  our 
lake,  he  will  soon  reach  the  river,  and,  following 
it  in  either  direction  for  ten  miles,  he  will  find 
a  well-beaten  road  along  which  he  can  get  to 
civilization.  The  worst  that  can  happen  is  that 
he  may  pass  a  very  uncomfortable  night  if  we 
do  not  overtake  him,  and  may  feel  somewhat 
hungry  before  he  encounters  anything  more 
nourishing  than  blueberries.  But  we  will  go  in 
search  of  him  without  delay,  and  I  think  we 
shall  find  him  without  trouble.  Get  your  dinner, 
Joe,  as  quickly  as  possible,  and  have  Charley  get 
his.  Madge,  will  you  look  after  the  lanterns?" 

It  required  but  little  time  for  Whitney  and 
the  Indian  to  finish  their  meal.  Ferris  insisted 
on  joining  the  searching  party,  and  Burton  con 
sented  upon  condition  that  he  would  restrict  his 
walk  to  the  river  along  the  trail  over  which  he 
had  come  first  to  the  camp.  Vinton  was  in 
structed  to  go  toward  the  river  at  a  short  dis 
tance  from  the  same  trail ;  Whitney  and  Joe 
were  to  go  directly  to  the  old  logging  camp  and 
look  for  traces  of  Moulton  there,  while  Burton 
and  Charley  were  to  take  a  more  southerly 
course,  as  they  had  done  but  little  tramping 
during  the  day. 

"  I  will  go  in  your  boat  across  the  lake,  Uncle 
Tom,"  said  Madge,  as  Burton  was  about  to 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  141 

start.  "  I  am  not  at  all  tired,  and  I  can  cover 
the  ground  between  you  and  Mr.  Whitney." 

"I  think  you  would  be  of  more  service  if  you 
should  go  with  Mr.  Ferris,"  replied  Burton. 
"He  cannot  shoot,  and  we  shall  need  to  fire  a 
signal  in  case  of  success — three  shots  in  quick 
succession." 

"As  you  think  best,"  she  answered.  "  Will 
you  take  the  lantern,  Mr.  Ferris,  while  I  get  my 
rifle?" 

Helen  followed  her  to  the  tent.  "  Madge 
dear,  do  you  think  anything  has  happened  to 
him?"  she  said,  her  voice  trembling  as  she 
spoke. 

"Do  not  worry,  dearie ;  I  am  sure  not.  I 
know  we  shall  find  him  soon,"  and  looking  into 
Helen's  eyes,  she  read  her  secret,  and  kissed  her 
as  she  hurried  away  to  join  Ferris. 

It  had  been  a  very  quiet  day  for  Ferris,  and 
for  the  most  part,  a  very  uncomfortable  one.  He 
had  not  fallen  asleep  until  nearly  daylight,  and 
did  not  awaken  until  after  the  others  had  break 
fasted,  and,  with  the  exception  of  Burton  and 
Mrs.  Elting,  had  deserted  the  camp.  Vinton 
and  Madge  had  gone  after  partridges,  and 
across  the  lake  he  could  see  Charley  paddling 
a  canoe  in  which  Helen  sat  trolling  for  bass. 
He  had  breakfasted  leisurely,  and  after  declin 
ing  Burton's  invitation  to  join  him  and  Mrs. 


142  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

Elting  for  a  sail,  settled  himself  to  read  the 
story  he  and  Madge  had  begun  the  day  before. 
But  it  failed  to  interest  him  as  it  had  done, 
and  throwing  the  book  aside,  he  wandered  off 
into  the  woods  and  did  not  come  back  until 
late  in  the  afternoon.  On  his  return  he  found 
Vinton  asleep  in  his  tent  and  Madge  alone  in 
the  hammock,  reading.  She  had  read  to  the 
point  where  he  had  put  aside  the  book,  and  at 
his  request  she  continued  reading  aloud.  At  once 
his  interest  awakened,  and  in  the  two  hours 
before  dinner,  he  quite  forgot  how  miserable  he 
had  been.  He  watched  her  as  she  read,  and 
realized  that  there  had  come  into  his  life  a  pas 
sion  such  as  he  had  never  known  before.  For 
the  time  at  least  he  would  be  happy,  forgetting 
his  determination  to  start  with  Burton  in  two 
days  for  the  mines. 

Madge  and  Ferris  walked  in  silence  for  some 
distance  after  leaving  the  camp.  The  trail  was 
broad  and  well-trodden,  and  they  did  not  need 
the  lantern,  which  he  carried  unlighted.  She 
was  the  first  to  speak. 

"What  are  you  so  busily  thinking  about?" 
she  asked. 

"I  was  thinking  of  our  former  walk  over  this 
trail,"  he  answered. 

"How  well   you  are  getting,"  she  said  ;  "I 


OUT   OF   THE    WOODS.  143 

will  confess  now  that  I  was  quite  alarmed  about 
you  then." 

"That  is  too  bad.  I  seem  to  have  come  as 
the  one  shadow  over  your  bright  camp  life. 
But,"  he  added,  after  a  moment's  silence,  "  I  am 
going  day  after  to-morrow,  and  you  will  have 
only  the  impression  of  the  discomfort  I  have 
made  you — which  I  am  sure  the  next  three 
weeks  of  pleasure  will  efface." 

Fortunately  for  Madge,  it  was  too  dark  for 
Ferris  to  see  the  expression  of  her  face  as  she 
answered  quietly  :  "  I  am  very  sorry.  Will  you 
come  again  before  we  break  camp?  " 

"  I  had  not  intended  to  do  so,"  he  said,  add 
ing  after  a  moment's  pause,  "  but  if  you  wish  it, 
I  will." 

"  Indeed,  we  shall  all  be  delighted  to  see  you, 
and  I  am  sure  the  perfect  rest  here  must  be  of 
benefit  after  your  busy  city  life.  Or  perhaps  you 
have  other  plans  for  a  vacation?  " 

"  No,  I  have  no  plans.  I  had  not  thought  of 
getting  an  outing  this  fall,  but  as  Captain  Vin- 
ton  was  so  near,  I  could  not  resist  the  chance  to 
be  with  him.  You  know  he  is  both  father  and 
friend  to  me,  and  has  been  since  I  can  remember, 
for  my  own  father  died  when  I  was  a  very  small 
child." 

"  I  envy  you  such  a  friendship.  I  have 
known  him  less  than  two  weeks  and  yet  I  feel 


144  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

as  if  I  had  known  him  always.  If  I  were  a  be 
liever  in  the  transmigration  of  souls,  I  should  be 
sure  that  in  some  former  state  our  lives  had  met. 
Do  you  believe  in  such  things?" 

"  No;  I  think  we  sometimes  find  such  a  be 
lief  convenient  in  explaining  the  suddenness 
with  which  a  strong  attraction  comes  into  our 
lives.  A  passion  on  short  notice  seems  shallow, 
and  we  resent  it  and  seek  some  extraordinary 
reason  for  it.  It  would  be  better,  I  think,  if  we 
simply  accepted  the  fact  without  attempting  to 
excuse  or  explain  it.  Human  passion  is  as  di 
verse  as  the  human  face,  yet  we  treat  it  as  if  it 
were  cast  for  all  in  the  same  mould,  and  that  a 
a  very  flat  one.  Can  you  not  conceive  of  two 
people  —  strong  characters,  if  you  please  —  dis 
covering  their  affinity  on  a  week's  intimacy  as 
certainly  and  truly  as  the  same  perception  might 
come  to  two  others  of  different  temperaments, 
in  years?  " 

"  Yes,  but  you  must  admit  that  it  is  less  usual 
and  conventional." 

"  That  is  true,  yet  it  need  be  none  the  less 
strong.  To  illustrate  :  Do  you  think  that  when 
Miss  Whitney  and  Tom  Moulton  discover  —  as 
they  eventually  will  —  that  they  care  very  much 
for  each  other,  that  their  affection  will  be  stronger 
or  more  sincere  than  that  of  yqurself  and  Cap 
tain  Vinton?" 


OUT    OF   THE    WOODS.  145 

"Perhaps  not,"  answered  Madge;  "though 
it  may  not  be  the  same.  Will  you  wait  here," 
she  added,  as  they  had  now  reached  the  river, 
"  while  I  examine  the  river  bank  for  a  short  dis 
tance  to  see  if  I  can  discover  any  signs  of  the 
wanderer?  I  will  return  within  an  hour." 

It  required  but  a  moment  for  Madge  to  light 
the  lantern  and  hurry  away,  leaving  Ferris  on 
the  spot  where  they  had  forded  the  river  less 
than  a  week  before. 

Did  she  love  Vinton?  This  was  the  question 
that  filled  his  thoughts.  Had  she  not  practi 
cally  confessed  as  much  in  what  she  had  already 
said?  And  yet,  why  should  she  emphasize  the 
difference  between  her  feeling  for  Vinton  and  that 
of  Moulton  for  Miss  Whitney?  These  and  many 
like  questions  he  vainly  sought  to  answer  during 
the  hour  or  more  that  he  spent  in  walking  rest 
lessly  to  and  fro  in  the  clearing  of  the  river  bank 
at  which  the  logging  road  ended.  But  one  con 
clusion  he  reached.  He  would  discover  whether 
she  loved  Vinton,  even  if  it  necessitated  his  tell 
ing  her  of  his  own  feelings.  He  could  not  go 
away  in  the  wretchedness  of  uncertainty. 

Having  determined  on  this  course,  he  awaited 
anxiously  her  return,  for  even  in  the  face  of  what 
seemed  to  him  certain  failure,  he  could  not  but 
cherish  a  faint  hope  of  success,  and  this  brought 
a  measure  of  cheerfulness.  Lighting  a  cigar,  he 


146  OUT    OF   THE    WOODS. 

began  to  fancy  by  degrees  that  Madge,  if  she 
did  not  love  Vinton,  might  in  time  learn  to  care 
for  himself. 

From  time  to  time  after  she  had  left  him,  he 
noticed  the  signal  shots  fired  at  intervals  by  the 
searchers  beyond  the  lake,  but  now  the  small 
new-born  hope  filled  his  heart  and  he  no  longer 
heard  them  nor  thought  of  the  lost  Moulton. 

Suddenly  there  was  splashing  of  water  at  a 
little  distance  above,  and  Madge's  cheerful  voice 
called  excitedly: 

"Isn't  it  fortunate  they  have  found  him  so 
soon?  We  must  hurry  back  to  camp  and  get 
ready  the  best  our  larder  affords." 

"  Why  do  you  think  they  have  found  him  ?  " 
asked  Ferris,  without  displaying  any  great  degree 
of  enthusiasm,  for  the  learning  of  his  own  fate 
seemed  more  important  to  him  than  the  finding 
of  Moulton,  and  he  knew  that  a  hasty  return  to 
camp  would  prevent  his  speaking  as  he  had  de 
termined. 

"Did  you  not  hear  the  three  quick  shots? 
That  was  to  be  the  signal  of  success.  I  was  on 
the  other  side  of  the  river  when  I  heard  them, 
and  I  was  so  impatient  to  get  back  that  I  could 
not  take  the  time  to  go  up  stream  to  the  old 
log  over  which  I  had  crossed,  and  so  waded 
across  in  the  shallowest  water  I  could  find. 
Whew  !  but  it  was  cold." 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  147 

"  You  should  not  have  done  that.  You  ought 
not  to  take  such  chances  with  your  health." 

"Never  fear  for  me.  We  shall  be  in  camp  in 
ten  minutes,  and  between  the  warmth  of  the 
camp  fire  and  Helen's  greeting,  I  shall  forget 
my  wet  feet.  Do  you  feel  strong  enough  to 
walk  so  rapidly? "  she  asked,  slackening  the 
quick  pace  at  which  they  had  started. 

"  O,  yes,  I  am  quite  well  again,"  answered 
Ferris.  "  At  least  physically.  What  makes  you 
so  happy  to-night?"  he  asked,  as  they  neared 
the  camp.  "  Let  me  share  it  with  you,  for  I  am 
not  very  happy." 

"Then  I  will  tell  you,"  she  answered, 
"  though  if  you  were  a  woman,  you  would  not 
need  to  be  told.  You  would  know  it ;  you  would 
feel  it  in  the  air.  Can't  you  see  how  these  two 
people  love  each  other  ?  And  do  you  not  ex 
perience  a  touch  of  reflected  happiness  ?  It  is 
beautiful,  it  is  ideal.  Is  it  strange  that  I  share 
my  friend's  happiness?" 

"  No,  but  are  you  sure  that  it  is  the  reflec 
tion  only  that  gladdens  your  heart?" 

"  It  must  be  ;  it  cannot  be  anything  more  for 
me.  Do  not  take  even  that  away,  I  beg  of  you," 
answered  Madge  slowly,  and  as  they  approached 
the  camp-fire  a  few  moments  later,  Ferris  could 
see  a  touch  of  sadness  in  her  face. 

That  Helen  had  heard  the  signal  was  evident 


148  OUT   OF   THE    WOODS. 

as  she  kissed  Madge,  who  hurried  into  their  tent 
for  dry  shoes  and  stockings. 

"  I  knew  he  would  be  as  hungry  as  a  bear, 
Madge,  and  with  Dan'l's  help  I  have  set  out  a 
delicious  supper  for  him,  although  he  does  not 
deserve  it  after  causing  us  all  so  much  anxiety. 
Really,  it  is  not  safe  to  trust  him  alone  in  the 
woods.  He  won  't  carry  a  compass,  and  if  he 
did,  he  would  not  know  how  to  use  it." 

"  Then  you  must  see  to  it  that  he  does  not 
go  alone  again,"  answered  Madge.  "  What  a 
trial  that  will  be  to  you,"  she  added  with  a  smile. 
"But  they  have  found  him,  and  come  very  close, 
Helen  dear,  while  I  whisper  something.  You 
have  found  him,  too." 

"What  nonsense  you  are  talking,  Madge," 
answered  Helen,  the  color  coming  to  her  cheeks. 
"Tom, —  I  mean  Mr.  Moulton, —  and  I  have 
been  the  best  of  friends  for  years." 

"  Yes,  but  that  is  over  now,  dear.  You  have 
lost  your  friend  and  have  found  — "  But  Helen 
quickly  put  her  hand  over  Madge's  mouth,  and 
before  she  could  speak  again,  hurried  from  the 
tent. 

Tom  Moulton  presented  a  forlorn  spectacle 
as  he  wearily  climbed  the  steps  that  led  from  the 
landing  to  the  camp.  He  was  without  hat  or 
coat  ;  his  shirt  and  trousers  were  torn,  and  his 
face  and  hands  badly  scratched  by  the  under- 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  I4Q 

brush  through  which  he  had  travelled.  When 
found  by  Whitney  and  Joe,  he  was  within  a  few 
hundred  yards  of  the  deserted  cabin  and  was 
hurrying  away  from  it  in  his  effort  to  locate  the 
signal  shots  that  Vinton  was  firing  a  half  mile 
nearer  camp.  As  they  passed  the  cabin,  he  in 
sisted  on  picking  up  the  autumn  leaves  he  had 
left  there.  "  I  shall  look  less  dismal  with  this 
patch  of  color,"  he  said  in  excuse,  and  held  on 
to  them  persistently  until  he  laid  them  in  front 
of  Helen's  seat  at  the  dining  table. 

"  If  I  had  confined  my  attention  to  gather 
ing  these,"  he  said,  dropping  into  his  seat  at  the 
table  a  few  minutes  later,  after  he  had  changed 
his  clothing,  "  I  should  not  have  been  in  this 
sorry  plight.  But  I  attempted  to  hunt  bears, 
and  this  is  the  result." 

"  How  absurd  of  you,"  said  Helen,  "  and 
what  would  you  have  done  if  you  had  found 
one?" 

"Rather  let  me  tell  you  what  I  actually  did," 
answered  Moulton,  with  as  much  pride  in  his 
tone  as  his  fatigued  condition  would  allow.  And 
during  the  next  half  hour  he  entertained  the 
party  gathered  in  the  dining  tent,  with  a  graphic 
account  of  his  hunt  and  subsequent  wanderings. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

IT  was  late  when  Ferris  appeared  at  breakfast 
the    morning   after    the    bear  hunt.      He 
found   Burton  and   Madge   about    to  start  for 
orchids. 

"Uncle  and  I  are  off  for  one  of  our  old 
tramps  this  morning,  Mr.  Ferris.  Won 't  you 
join  us?"  she  said,  seating  herself  for  a  moment 
near  him. 

"I  will  decline  on  one  condition,"  he  an 
swered.  "  It  is  that  you  will  give  me  part  of 
this  afternoon.  I  want  to  go  in  search  of  my 
fishing  rod,  which  disappeared  in  the  river  near 
where  you  found  me,  and  which  I  imagine  can 
easily  be  recovered.  It  is  an  old  favorite  and  I 
should  be  sorry  to  lose  it  now." 

"Surely.  How  stupid  of  me  not  to  have 
thought  of  it  before.  I  will  return  for  luncheon 
before  two  and  we  can  go  at  three.  If  you 
have  no  plan  for  the  morning  let  me  suggest 
that  you  walk  over  to  Twin  Lakes.  The  trail 
is  very  plain,  and  the  view  from  the  point  is  well 
worth  seeing." 

150 


OUT    OF   THE    WOODS.  151 

"  I  will  do  so  if  Miss  Whitney  will  be  my 
guide,"  answered  Ferris,  turning  to  Helen  as 
she  took  her  place  at  the  breakfast  table. 

An  hour  later  Helen  and  Ferris  started  just 
as  Moulton  and  Whitney  came  from  their  tent. 

"  Won  't  you  join  us,  Tom?  "  said  Ferris  as 
Moulton  came  toward  them. 

"  No,  thank  you,  Bob,  no  more  tramps  for 
me.  The  trail  from  our  tent  to  the  dining  tent 
is  very  distinct,  and  I  shall  content  myself  with 
following  that,  for  the  present  at  least.  I  haven't 
that  confidence  in  my  woodcraft  that  I  had 
before  yesterday's  experience.  Besides,  I  en 
gaged  Mrs.  Elting  last  evening  for  a  sail  this 
morning,  and  I  feel  much  more  confidence  on 
the  water  than  in  the  woods." 

The  Twin  Lakes  were  scarcely  more  than  a 
mile  from  Round  Lake,  and  as  the  trail  ran 
through  a  forest  of  oak  and  birch  and  maple 
trees  and  was  free  from  underbrush,  the  walk 
was  an  easy  one.  The  point  between  the  two 
lakes  was  a  narrow  peninsula  of  high  ground, 
heavily  wooded,  from  which  a  view  of  the 
greater  part  of  both  lakes  could  be  had.  It 
was  indeed  well  worth  seeing,  for  the  diversity 
and  richness  of  coloring  along  the  shores  of  the 
lakes  were  exceptional  even  in  these  woods,  which 
abounded  in  such  natural  beauties.  On  one 
side  of  the  point  extended  a  little  bay  scarcely 


152  OUT   OF   THE    WOODS. 

one  hundred  yards  across,  covered  with  lily 
pads  and  fringed  with  rushes.  Beyond  this  the 
lake  widened,  and  from  its  white  sandy  beach 
the  bank  rose  abruptly  and  was  covered  with  a 
great  variety  of  hard  wood,  with  here  and  there 
a  tall  pine  reaching  its  branches  of  dark  green 
high  above  the  surrounding  trees.  In  places 
the  white  trunks  of  the  silver  birch  stood  out 
in  bold  contrast  against  a  rugged  background 
of  browns  and  green,  and  close  to  the  water's 
edge  a  few  of  the  maples  were  showing  the  first 
touches  of  the  autumn  glory.  The  shores  of 
the  other  lake  were  lower,  and  near  its  upper 
end  the  remains  of  fallen  and  dead  trees  showed 
where  at  some  former  time  a  beaver  dam  had 
existed,  while  upon  one  side  a  treeless  stretch, 
densely  covered  with  berry  bushes  in  rank  growth, 
from  which  an  occasi6nal  charred  stump  raised 
itself,  told  of  some  forest  fire  that  had  run  to 
the  water's  edge. 

As  Helen  and  Ferris  walked  out  onto  the 
point,  a  flock  of  wood  duck  startled  from 
the  little  bay  circled  in  swift  flight  until  they 
were  high  enough  to  rise  over  the  timber. 

"  Won'tyou  try  a  shot  at  them  with  my  rifle?  " 
asked  Helen,  as  she  saw  them  swinging  over 
head.  "It  is  very  light,  and  I  am  sure  you  could 
manage  it  with  one  arm." 

"  No,  thank  you,"    he  answered,   "  I  should 


OUT    OF   THE    WOODS.  153 

surely  miss.  Besides  I  am  devoid  of  aggressive 
ness  to-day,  even  to  the  extent  of  not  caring 
for  a  shot  at  ducks.  Let  us  sit  here  a  while  and 
see  if  they  do  not  return.  Can  you  imagine  a 
more  perfect  picture  of  quietude  than  this?" 

"  No.  But  indeed  these  woods  are  beautiful 
and  restful  beyond  any  place  I  have  ever  known. 
I  have  often  wondered  at  Miss  Seaton's  enthu 
siasm  for  them.  I  understand  it  now.  When 
we  were  in  Berlin  last  winter  she  sighed  for  the 
woods.  In  the  galleries  she  would  often  stop 
before  a  forest  scene  by  some  master  artist ; 
yet  the  comment  invariably  came,  'Yes,  this 
is  beautiful,  but  not  like  our  woods.'  She  is  a 
very  unusual  woman,  is  she  not?" 

"Yes,  I  have  never  known  one  like  her," 
replied  Ferris. 

"  It  seems  strange  to  me  that  she  has  never 
married.  She  has  so  many  traits  that  should 
attract  men.  Yet  while  she  has  many  men 
friends,  I  doubt  if  she  ever  had  an  offer  of  mar 
riage.  I  should  think  that  a  man  would  need 
to  have  a  goodly  measure  of  conceit  to  con 
sider  himself  worthy  of  her." 

Ferris  colored  slightly  as  he  answered  : 
"  Your  doubts  are  in  a  fair  way  to  be  dispelled, 
are  they  not?" 

"I  don't  think  I  quite  understand,"  Helen 
replied.  "Perhaps  I  am  not  very  observing. 


154  OUT   OF   THE    WOODS. 

Would  you  have  me  infer  that  you  are  bold 
enough  ;  you,  the  woman-hater?" 

"  Indeed  I  was  not  thinking  of  myself,"  he 
said,  with  embarrassment,  his  color  deepening  to 
a  positive  blush. 

"Surely  you  cannot  mean  Captain  Vinton? 
Verily,  you  are  ignorant  of  a  woman's  heart, 
Mr.  Ferris.  She  is  fond  of  him  ;  so  am  I  ;  but 
can  you  imagine  my  loving  him?  It  would  be 
quite  as  probable." 

"  No;  but  for  a  very  different  reason,"  replied 
Ferris,  recovering  his  self-possession.  "  It  is 
because  you  —  shall  I  tell  you  why?" 

"No,  Sir  Impudence,"  she  answered  lightly, 
now  coloring  in  her  turn.  "  Besides,  it  would  be 
a  very  poor  return  for  a  piece  of  information  that 
you  should  be  very  glad  to  get." 

"  Yes,  I  should  be,  if — ,"  and  he  paused,  for 
the  thought  that  she  was  learning  his  inmost 
secret  was  not  pleasant. 

"  If  you  had  the  courage  to  admit  what  you 
know  to  be  true.  What  odd  creatures  you  men 
are.  Theoretically,  you  believe  in  love,  yet  when 
it  comes  into  your  lives  you  meet  it  with  doubt, 
and  fear,  and  trembling.  You  try  to  reason  about 
it  and  measure  it,  and  altogether  deal  with  it  as 
with  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life,  instead  of  recog 
nizing  it  as  a  power  beyond  the  reach  of  reason. 
If  it  be  truly  the  remnant  of  original  godliness 


OUT    OF   THE    WOODS.  155 

that  is  left  to  us,  why  seek  to  compass  it  with 
the  bonds  of  human  reason?  We  women  are 
wiser  in  this  one  thing.  We  know  love's  pres 
ence  intuitively.  We  do  not  attempt  to  explain 
it,  much  less  doubt  it.  When  a  woman  doubts 
if  she  is  in  love,  you  may  be  sure  she  is  not,  or 
won't  be  long ;  whereas  with  a  man  it  is  a  sure 
sign  that  he  is,  or  soon  will  be.  As  I  say,  we 
women  know  such  things  intuitively  ;  and  some 
times,"  she  added  with  a  roguish  smile,  "  our 
intuitions  are  not  always  with  regard  to  ourselves 
only." 

So  far  as  his  feeling  for  Madge  was  con 
cerned,  Ferris  had  passed  beyond  the  condition 
of  doubt.  He  knew  that  he  loved  her,  but,  even 
with  the  assurance  of  Helen  to  the  contrary,  he 
still  questioned  if  she  did  not  love  Vinton.  This 
much,  at  least,  he  would  determine  in  the  after 
noon ;  yet  what  Helen  had  said  gave  him  hope 
such  as  he  had  not  known  before.  He  was  will 
ing  to  try  to  win  Madge's  love  if  she  was  indeed 
heart  free.  It  was  not  vanity ;  it  was  only  the 
confidence  that  a  love  so  great,  so  enduring  as 
he  felt  his  to  be,  must  find  response.  But  he  did 
not  enjoy  the  personal  turn  the  conversation 
had  taken,  and  was  seeking  to  change  it,  when 
Helen  called  his  attention  to  an  object  in  the 
water  near  the  opposite  shore  of  the  smaller  one 
of  the  lakes.  He  recognized  it  at  once  as  a  deer, 


156  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

although  only  the  head  appeared  above  the 
water. 

"  He  is  swimming  this  way,"  he  said,  after 
watching  it  a  moment  through  the  field  glass, 
"and  will  probably  cross  on  the  point.  If  so, 
you  may  get  a  fair  shot  as  he  passes  us." 

But  a  moment  later  the  deer  changed  his 
course  and  headed  for  the  shore  of  the  lake  just 
beyond  the  little  bay. 

"  Raise  the  sights  of  your  rifle,"  said  Ferris  ; 
"  you  can  get  a  snap  shot  as  he  leaves  the  water. 
It  will  not  be  over  two  hundred  yards." 

Helen  did  as  she  was  directed  and  excitedly 
waited  for  the  deer  to  reach  the  shore. 

"Now  be  ready  for  him.  You  must  lose  no 
time  when  he  touches  land,  for  it  is  plain  from 
the  way  he  swims  that  he  has  been  startled." 

As  he  spoke  the  deer  turned  quickly  from  the 
shore  and  headed  again  towards  the  point,  and 
for  the  first  time  Ferris  saw  the  cause  of  his 
alarm.  On  the  edge  of  the  brush,  near  where 
the  deer  was  about  to  leave  the  water,  a  timber 
wolf  was  skulking,  but  being  to  the  windward, 
the  deer  had  got  his  scent. 

"There  is  his  pursuer,"  said  Ferris  in  an  un 
dertone,  showing  Helen  the  wolf ;  "a  more 
dreaded  enemy  than  man,  even.  Would  you 
rather  take  a  long  shot  at  him?" 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  157 

"It  looks  like  a  great  dog  —  is  it  a  wolf?" 
asked  Helen,  now  all  excitement. 

"  Yes,  and  a  very  large  one,  I  should  say." 

"  Pray,  shoot  him.  I  am  so  excited  that  it 
would  be  folly  for  me  to  attempt  it ;  see  how  my 
hand  trembles,"  said  Helen  ;  and  it  was  indeed 
true,  for  she  could  scarcely  hold  the  rifle. 

Thrusting  his  hunting  knife  into  the  side  of 
the  stump  near  which  they  were  sitting,  in  order 
to  give  a  rest  for  the  gun,  Ferris  readjusted  the 
sights  for  three  hundred  yards  —  the  distance 
as  near  as  his  practiced  eye  could  judge  to  a 
little  opening  in  the  brush  across  which  he  saw 
the  wolf  would  pass — and  as  the  animal  showed 
himself,  he  carefully  aimed  and  fired. 

"He  is  gone,"  said  Helen;  "  I  saw  him  jump. 
It  is  too  bad." 

"  But  I  think  I  hit  him.  Do  you  mind  wait 
ing  here  while  I  go  and  see  ?  " 

"  Might  he  not  come  this  way?"  asked  Helen, 
alarmed  at  the  thought  of  being  left  alone. 

"  There's  not  the  slightest  danger  of  his  doing 
so.  If  I  missed,  he  is  probably  a  mile  away 
already,"  answered  Ferris.  And  thus  reassured, 
Helen  was  content  to  remain  and  signal  with 
her  handkerchief  when  Ferris  reached  the  spot 
where  the  wolf  disappeared.  Leaving  the  rifle 
with  her,  he  hurried  around  the  edge  of  the  bay. 


158  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

As  he  neared  the  point  that  he  had  marked  to 
look  for  his  game,  the  rifle  again  rang  out  and 
he  saw  Helen  looking  in  the  opposite  direction. 
Standing  on  the  edge  of  the  lake,  he  called  to 
her,  and  she  answered  that  she  had  fired  at  and 
missed  a  beautiful  buck.  A  little  further  on  he 
came  to  the  open  place  in  which  he  last  saw  the 
wolf,  and  in  the  brush  beyond  he  found  the  ani 
mal  prostrate  and  dying,  for  the  bullet  had 
crashed  through  his  spine.  Returning  to  Helen, 
he  found  her  radiant  with  excitement. 

"Did  you  get  your  quarry?"  she  asked,  hur 
riedly. 

"  Yes,  but  are  you  sure  you  missed  yours  ?  " 
"  Of  course,  and  it  seems  so  stupid,  after  I 
have  been  practicing  in  a  rifle  gallery  for  a 
month  before  coming  here,  and  for  this  very  shot. 
I  was  watching  you  when  suddenly  I  heard  a 
crash  in  the  brush  near  the  water's  edge  on  the 
other  side  of  the  point.  To  say  that  I  was 
startled,  but  mildly  expresses  my  sensation.  Of 
course,  I  thought  it  must  be  the  wolf  and  I  was 
about  to  call  to  you  when  a  great  buck  came 
dashing  towards  me.  Evidently  he  was  quite 
as  surprised  at  seeing  me  as  I  was  at  the  sight 
of  him,  for  he  stopped  an  instant  within  a  few 
rods  of  me,  and  then  ran  through  the  open 
timber.  As  he  turned  I  raised  the  gun  and 
fired,  but  he  disappeared.  It  was  such  an  easy 


OUT    OF   THE    WOODS. 

shot.  He  had  just  passed  that  great  pine  when 
I  fired.  We  must  go  back  to  camp  now.  I  am 
glad  we  do  not  return  empty  handed." 

"Walk  slowly  along  the  trail  we  came,  and  I 
will  join  you  in  a  few  minutes,"  said  Ferris,  as 
he  hurried  in  the  direction  the  deer  had  taken. 
Skilled  as  he  was  in  hunting  big  game,  he  found 
no  difficulty  in  following  the  fresh  tracks  of  the 
buck  in  the  soft  earth  and  pine  needles,  but  he 
was  about  to  conclude  that  Helen  had,  indeed, 
missed  when  he  came  upon  a  pool  of  fresh 
blood  along  the  trail.  It  was  plain  that  the 
animal  was  wounded,  and  from  the  fact  that  he 
did  not  bleed  at  once,  he  knew  that  the  hemor 
rhage  was  internal  and  the  wound  a  bad  one. 
Noting  the  spot,  he  joined  Helen  and  they  were 
soon  in  camp. 

At  the  landing  Joe  was  busily  engaged  in 
whittling  out  a  paddle  of  white  birch,  but  with 
a  few  hurried  directions  from  Ferris,  he  dropped 
his  work,  took  his  pack  straps  and,  calling  to 
Charley  in  Chippewa,  the  two  disappeared  in 
the  direction  of  Twin  Lakes. 

As  the  party  finished  luncheon  an  hour  later, 
Joe  called  Ferris  aside  and  told  him  that  he  and 
Charley  had  brought  in  both  the  wolf  and  the 
buck  and  hung  them  on  the  beach  beyond  the 
landing.  At  the  table  Helen  had  given  a  graphic 
account  of  their  morning's  adventure,  sounding 


l6o  OUT    OF   THE    WOODS. 

the  praises  of  Ferris's  marksmanship  and  lament 
ing  her  own  lack  of  skill.  Ferris  now  invited 
all  to  view  the  game,  but  allowed  Helen  and 
Moulton  to  go  first,  that  the  surprise  might  be 
the  more  complete. 

****** 

Leaving  their  fellow-campers  to  their  own 
devices  after  luncheon,  Ferris  and  Madge  went 
to  the  river  in  search  of  the  lost  rod.  Madge 
had  brought  with  her  a  trolling  line  with  a 
heavy  spoon-hook,  and  after  a  few  unsuccessful 
casts  across  the  pool  at  the  edge  of  which 
Ferris  had  met  with  his  accident,  the  spoon 
caught  in  his  line,  which  had  been  carried 
down  stream,  doubtless  by  a  trout,  as  the 
sombre  "  brown-  hackle "  was  the  only  fly  left 
upon  the  leader.  The  rod  was  found  unbroken, 
and  after  stretching  the  line  to  dry,  they 
wandered  up  stream  until  they  reached  the 
fallen  tree,  which  made  an  easy  bridge  between 
the  banks. 

"I  will  show  you  one  of  my  favorite  old 
haunts,"  said  Madge,  as  they  crossed  the  stream. 
"  It  is  only  a  little  way  from  the  river.  When 
Uncle  Tom  and  I  camped  here  I  used  to  spend 
many  hours  there  while  he  was  hunting  and 
botanizing.  It  was  beautiful  then,  and  I  imagine 
must  be  so  still.  Time  makes  very  little  change 
in  these  dear  old  woods.  Uncle  Tom  called 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  l6l 

this  my  throne,"  she  said,  a  moment  later,  as 
they  reached  the  brow  of  the  little  hill,  on  the 
very  top  of  which  three  tall  Norway  pines  grew 
a  few  feet  apart,  forming  a  small  triangular 
space,  in  which  Burton  years  before  had  built  a 
rustic  bench. 

Brushing  away  the  leaves  and  pine  needles  that 
had  accumulated  upon  it,  Madge  seated  herself. 

"  Won't  you  share  my  throne  with  me  ?  "  she 
said  lightly.  "  It  is  really  not  so  rough  and  un 
comfortable  as  it  looks." 

Ferris  stood  before  her  a  moment  in  admira 
tion.  With  such  environment  she  was  indeed  beau 
tiful.  His  heart  was  beating  so  fast  that  he  could 
scarcely  speak,  and  yet  his  whole  soul  was  seek 
ing  utterance.  She  looked  into  his  eyes  and  the 
color  crept  into  her  cheeks.  If  possible,  she 
would  have  stopped  the  flood  of  passion  that  was 
sweeping  toward  her.  But  it  was  too  late.  He 
came  quite  close  and,  looking  earnestly  at  her 
as  she  sat  with  her  eyes  downcast  and  her  hands 
clasped  in  her  lap,  said  very  gently  and  slowly, 
his  voice  tremulous  as  he  spoke  : 

"  My  queen,  I  want  to  share  your  life  with 
you.  You  told  me  last  night  that  love  made  its 
presence  known.  If  that  is  true,  you  must 
know,  in  a  measure,  what  I  feel,  better  than  any 
words  can  tell.  My  heart  has  been  saying  three 
little  words  so  fast,  so  constantly,  that  they  seem 


1 62  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

to  have  crowded  out  all  other  words  as  they  have 
all  other  thought  —  I  love  you  ;  I  love  you." 

"No,  no,  do  not  say  that,  I  beg.  You 
must  not.  Indeed  you  must  not.  It  can  mean 
but  wretchedness  for  you  —  for  both  of  us.  I 
know,  Mr.  Ferris,  the  truth  of  what  I  say.  For 
get  that  you  have  spoken  to  me  of  this,  and  let 
us  go  back  to  camp." 

As  she  spoke,  she  rose.  Her  eyes  met  his, 
and  he  saw  her  utter  unhappiness. 

"It  is  too  late,"  he  said  sadly.  "  I  know  that 
I  love  you.  It  is  the  one  certainty  of  my  life.  I 
feared  that  it  might  be  hopeless  —  that  you 
cared  for  another.  Yet  I  could  not  help  telling 
you.  Fool  that  I  was,  to  think  that  a  miserable 
fellow  like  myself,  who  has  never  had  the  art  to 
win  a  woman's  smile,  should  aspire  to  your  love. 
But  you  have  filled  my  life  since  I  have  known 
you.  I  would  work  so  hard  for  you  ;  I  would 
wait  so  patiently  for  you  ;  I  would  try  to  be  as 
other  men  whom  women  care  for — if  only 
sometime,  perhaps,  ever  so  long  from  now,  I 
could  hope  to  win  you.  Tell  me  that  you  love 
another,  and  I  will  go  away ;  or  if  you  do  not, 
let  me  hope,  let  me  try.  Do  not  send  me 
away." 

As  he  spoke,  Madge  sank  hopelessly  to  the 
seat  and  covered  her  eyes  with  her  hands.  She 
was  silent  for  a  moment,  but  Ferris  could  see 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  163 

that  he  had  caused  her  to  weep,  and  an  infinite 
sadness  came  over  him. 

"  I  am  sorry,  dear,  that  I  have  made  you  so 
unhappy.  Tell  me  that  there  is  another,  and  I 
will  leave  you.  You  will  forget  that  I  have 
made  this  shadow  in  your  holiday,  and  I  —  I  — 
my  God,  I  will  live  on  — 

"No,  no,  Robert,  do  not  speak  like  that;  I 
cannot  bear  it.  Indeed,  I  cannot,"  she  cried, 
looking  him  full  in  the  face  and  brushing  the 
tears  from  her  eyes.  "  There  is  no  other — there 
has  never  been  another — I  love  you.  I  seem  to 
have  loved  you  always.  No,  no,  do  not  take 
my  hand.  Listen  to  me,  Robert,  for  I  must  tell 
you  why  you  shall  not  love  me,  though  it  breaks 
my  heart." 

"Say  what  you  will,  now,  darling.  Your 
voice  will  be  music  even  if  you  speak  my 
doom." 

He  sat  on  the  bed  of  soft  pine  needles  at  her 
feet,  and  leaning  against  the  seat,  rested  his  hand 
on  a  fold  of  her  dress, —  for  it  was  part  of  her. 
He  could  have  been  happy  now,  come  what 
might,  except  for  the  sorrow  that  overwhelmed 
her,  for  she  had  said  she  loved  him,  and  this  was 
all  his  heart  could  compass. 

"Oh!  Robert,  if  I  might  only  forget  for  a 
little  while;  if  I  might  hear  you  say  you  love  me, 
and  forget  that  I  can  never  claim  your  love, —  I 


164  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

would  willingly  bear  a  lifetime  of  wretchedness. 
But  you  must  go  away  from  me,  Robert, 
dear—  " 

"  Never,  my  darling." 

"  Yes,  but  you  must,  and  you  must  forget  me. 
Oh!  that  is  the  hardest  thought  of  all.  It  is 
dreadful,  but  I  must  have  courage  to  tell  you. 
Please  do  not  look  at  me  so, —  do  not  look  up 
again  until  I  have  finished,  and  then  you  must 
bid  me  good-bye.  Robert,  you  have  heard  me 
call  Dr.  Burton  my  uncle.  He  is  not ;  I  am 
nobody's  child.  I  am  — 

"  You  are  mine,  dearest.  Do  not  think  of 
the  past  again.  Forget  it.  Let  us  think  only 
of  the  future  that  holds  so  much  in  store  for  us 
now.  There  can  be  no  one  to  claim  your  love 
but  me,  and  in  return  I  will  give  you  in  such 
measure  that  you  shall  not  miss  the  love  of 
others." 

"  Do  not  tempt  me,  Robert,  to  forget  a  vow 
that  is  part  of  my  conscience.  I  made  it  years 
ago,  when  I  was  a  mere  child  and  scarcely  old 
enough  to  appreciate  the  wretchedness  it  might 
bring.  No,  no,  I  shall  never  accept  the  love  of 
any  man,  unless  I  know  that  my  blood  is  free 
from  the  taint  of  sin.  If  I  loved  you  less  it 
would  be  easier  to  break  this  vow,  to  think  only 
of  my  own  happiness,  to  flatter  myself  that  I 
could  make  you  forget  that  the  woman  you  loved 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  165 

was  a  waif, —  a  child  of  the  street,  maybe. 
Gladly  would  I  risk  all,  the  chiding  of  my  own 
conscience,  the  waning  of  your  love,  if  my  hap 
piness  alone  were  at  stake,  but  I  will  not  jeopar 
dize  yours.  It  may  seem  hard  to  you  now, 
dearest,  but  some  day, —  a  long,  long  time  from 
now,  you  will  realize  that  I  am  right.  You  must 
go  away  now.  You  must  forget  to-day.  Forget 
that  you  have  told  me  of  your  love.  In  time 
you  will  find  some  one  more  worthy  to  receive 
this  great  gift,  and  I  will  pray  for  that  time, 
Robert,  with  my  whole  heart.  I  did  not  mean 
that  you  should  know  that  I  love  you.  It 
would  have  been  easier  for  you  had  I  not  done 
so.  But  leave  me  now,  and  I  will  bid  you  good 
bye  to-morrow." 

While  Madge  spoke  thus,  slowly  and  with  tears 
in  her  voice,  the  old  look  of  determination  came 
back  to  Ferris's  face,  and  with  earnestness  he  said: 

"  Do  you  think,  dear,  that  I  can  lose  you 
now?  You  do  not  know  my  heart ;  I  cannot 
believe  that  what  you  dread  is  true.  Tell  me 
what  you  know  of  your  life,  and  I  will  prove, — 
if  it  takes  the  best  years  of  my  life,— that  your 
fears  are  groundless.  Only  let  me  know  all,  and 
I  will  begin  to-morrow." 

For  an  instant  a  look  of  happiness,  born  of 
hope,  came  into  her  face,  but  it  passed  as  quickly. 

"  There  is  little  to  tell.     When  I  was  but  a 


1 66  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

few  months  old,  my  mother  was  shipwrecked  on 
the  Delaware  coast.  It  was  in  September  of 
1862.  The  vessel,  'La  Stella,'  sailed  from  Lis 
bon  in  July.  My  mother  and  I  were  the  only 
passengers,  and  of  the  crew,  all  were  lost  except 
two  sailors.  Dr.  Burton  took  my  mother  and 
me  to  his  home,  and  soon  after  that  she  died. 
Of  my  father  I  have  never  been  able  to  learn 
anything — not  even  his  name.  Before  she  died 
she  asked  that  I  might  be  called  Margery  Seaton 
—  the  same  name  that  marks  her  grave.  Years 
ago,  when  I  learned  that  Dr.  Burton  was  not 
related  to  me,  I  sought  to  learn  more  of  my 
father,  but  he  discouraged  the  attempt,  for  he 
could  give  me  no  hope  of  success.  Last  fall  I 
went  to  Lisbon.  I  searched  for  weeks  for  some 
clue,  but  in  vain.  I  found  the  name  of  Seaton 
only  once  in  the  church  register  and  that  was 
many  years  before  I  was  born.  A  woman  of 
that  name  had  married  the  British  Consul,  who 
died  a  few  years  afterwards,  and  of  his  descend 
ants  I  could  learn  nothing.  I  paid  men  to  help 
me  in  my  search.  We  found  the  record  of  the 
vessel,  but  it  did  not  show  that  on  her  last  voy 
age  she  carried  any  passengers.  No,  I  cannot 
see  a  ray  of  hope." 

"  Do  not  despair,  dearest.  Let  me  take  up 
the  search.  I  feel  that  I  shall  succeed.  May  I 
talk  with  Dr.  Burton  before  I  begin  ?  You 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  167 

know  this  means  everything  to  me.     And  when 
I  succeed,  as  I  know  I  shall  —  " 

"  Then  come  back  to  me,  Robert,  and  I  will 
give  you  such  love  as  never  woman  gave  before. 
Yes,  you  may  tell  Uncle  Tom,  but  not  Captain 
Vinton.  It  would  grieve  him,  and  he  is  devoted 
to  you  beyond  all  else  in  the  world." 

Many  were  the  questions  that  Ferris  put  to 
Madge  in  the  hope  of  getting  some  further  clue 
to  her  parentage.  While  he  discovered  little 
that  could  be  of  service  to  him  in  his  search,  his 
inquiries  awakened  in  Madge  a  new  hope,  for 
they  served  to  show  her  how  much  more  clever 
and  systematic  would  be  his  method  of  conduct 
ing  the  search  than  hers  had  been. 

The  shadows  were  deepening  in  the  woods, 
the  sunlight  touching  only  the  tops  of  the  taller 
pines,  when  they  realized  that  it  was  time  to  re 
turn  to  camp.  After  crossing  the  river  Ferris 
picked  up  his  rod,  and  as  they  walked  along 
Madge  slowly  wound  in  the  line  upon  his  reel. 
When  this  was  done,  he  said:  "You  will  keep 
these,  Madge  dear,  until  I  come  again?" 

For  an  hour  they  had  almost  forgotten  that 
there  could  be  any  doubt  as  to  his  return.  These 
words  brought  again  to  Madge  the  thought  that 
he  might  never  come  back  to  her  and  she  an 
swered  sadly:  "Yes,  Robert.  But  if  you  should 
not  return  ?" 


1 68  OUT    OF   THE    WOODS. 

"  Do  not  question,  dearest ;  I  know  that  I 
shall.  My  only  dread  is  that  the  time  may  be 
long,  but  I  shall  not  fail." 

As  they  neared  the  camp  they  walked  more 
slowly,  reluctant  that  this  last  sweet  meeting 
should  end.  Almost  in  sight  of  camp  they 
stopped. 

"  Robert,  dear,"  Madge  held  out  her  hand  to 
him  and  he  saw  tears  in  her  eyes  as  he  took  it. 

"  Not  '  good-bye,'  darling,  but  '  courage  ' ;  " 
he  drew  her  gently  to  him  and  the  first  kiss  of 
love  of  these  two  strong  hearts  was  given. 

A  moment  later  they  reached  the  camp  and 
found  the  dinner  awaiting  them.  All  but  Whit 
ney  were  in  camp.  He  had  gone  duck-shooting 
and  would  no  doubt  be  absent  so  long  as  there 
was  daylight  enough  for  him  to  see  the  sights  of 
his  gun.  Helen  and  Moulton  were  watching  the 
Indians  pile  up  the  logs  for  the  evening  camp- 
fire,  the  size  of  which  grew  with  the  increasing 
coldness  of  the  autumn  nights.  Mrs.  Elting 
was  busy  writing  a  letter,  and  Burton  and  Vinton 
were  sitting  on  an  old  log  near  the  cook's  tent 
chatting  away  like  old-time  friends,  for  camp  life 
is  a  rapid  developer  of  affinities. 

A  few  vigorous  raps  by  old  Dan'l  on  the  bot 
tom  of  a  tin  pan  announced  dinner  and  brought 
the  party  together  at  the  table.  For  the  first 
time  since  he  joined  the  party,  Ferris  was  in  high 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  169 

spirits  and,  as  Vinton  said,  "  quite  like  his  old 
self."  His  going  in  the  morning  was  not  men 
tioned  during  the  meal.  Helen  knew  that  he 
and  Madge  had  spent  the  afternoon  together,  and 
with  quick  intuition  divined  the  cause  of  his 
happiness  ;  and  once  or  twice  when  Ferris  caught 
her  eyes  he  felt  the  color  come  into  his  cheeks 
and  his  heart  beat  faster.  Yet  he  knew  that  in 
her  his  secret  had  a  safe  custodian. 

The  camp  fire  was  snapping  briskly  in  the 
crisp  air  as  they  gathered  around  it  after  dinner, 
the  sparks  chasing  each  other  into  the  leafy 
darkness  above  until  lost  in  the  high  boughs  of 
the  old  hemlock  that  stretched  over  and  beyond 
the  smaller  trees.  As  they  left  the  table,  Whit 
ney  appeared  with  a  good  bag  of  ducks,  which  he 
hung  with  reluctance  on  the  game  rack ;  he 
would  have  preferred  to  spread  them  out  for  the 
admiration  of  the  others,  since  he  alone  had  con 
tributed  to  the  replenishment  of  the  larder.  But 
appetite  was  stronger  than  pride,  and  after  a 
hurried  toilet  he  joined  the  Indians  and  Dan'l  at 
their  meal. 

The  chill  night  air,  which  promised  a  heavy 
frost,  brought  all  close  about  the  fire.  Ferris 
found  a  place  on  the  rug  beside  Madge,  where, 
by  turning  his  back  to  the  fire  he  could  watch 
her  face  ;  to-night  it  was  radiant.  Helen  and 
Moulton  occupied  a  rustic  settee  mounted  on  rude 


I7O  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

rockers,  but  withal  very  comfortable  and  dedi 
cated  to  the  "  orchestra,"  as  Moulton  dubbed 
Helen  and  himself.  It  was  an  ideal  night ;  not 
a  cloud  was  in  the  sky,  and  the  myriads  of  stars 
showed  through  the  leaves  and  open  places  and 
found  reflection  on  the  surface  of  the  lake,  which 
was  rippled  by  the  faintest  breeze. 

Moulton  tuned  his  banjo  and  found  vent  for 
his  excess  of  spirits  in  a  number  of  topical  songs 
that  he  had  been  lucky  enough  to  get  hold  of 
before  they  became  too  familiar.  Then  Helen 
and  he  sang  together,  and  later  he  improvised  an 
accompaniment  to  the  "  Canadian  Boat  Song," 
and  others  of  those  good  old-fashioned  choruses 
which  all  knew  and  the  simple  harmonies  of 
which  invited  all  to  join.  Vinton,  too,  in  a 
crude  but  melodious  baritone,  sang  a  rhythmical 
old  Spanish  boat  song  that  drew  Dan'l  from  his 
dishes. 

Vinton  noticed  him  in  the  shadow  across  the 
camp-fire  as  he  finished,  and  said  :  "  It's  a  long 
time,  Dan'l,  since  you  heard  that  song." 

"  Ay,  sor,  nigh  twenty-seven  years ;  but  it's 
mighty  good  to  hear  your  voice  again." 

Dan'l  returned  to  his  dishes  ;  but  the  memory 
awakened  by  the  old  song  absorbed  Vinton's 
thought,  and  soon  after  he  drew  his  top  coat  over 
his  shoulders  and  strolled  down  to  the  landing. 
A  little  later  Madge  said  a  general  good-night 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  1 71 

to  all,  and  as  she  leaned  over  in  rising  from  the 
rug,  whispered  a  special  "  good-night,  Robert 
dear,"  very  softly;  so  softly,  indeed,  that  only 
one  heard  it,  but  his  heart  beat  fast  with  happi 
ness  for  an  hour  afterwards. 

Helen  and  Mrs.  Elting  went  with  Madge,  and 
Whitney  and  Moulton  disappeared  in  their  tent 
arm  in  arm,  humming  the  chorus  of  an  old  col 
lege  song.  Ferris  remained  by  the  fire  a  short 
time  and  then  sought  Vinton  to  tell  him  of  his 
departure.  It  was  a  sad  disappointment  to  his 
old  friend,  for  they  had  had  no  fishing  or  hunt 
ing  together ;  but  no  argument  or  thought  of 
pleasure  could  change  Ferris'  plans.  As  they 
were  parting  for  the  night  Vinton  said  : 

"  There  is  another  reason,  Robert,  why  I  am 
sorry  to  have  you  go.  You  are  nearer  to  me,  boy, 
than  any  one  else  ;  you  are  as  my  own  child.  I 
had  hoped  that  perhaps  you  might  care  for  Miss 
Seaton  ;  she  is  such  a  noble  girl." 

Gladly  would  he  have  told  Vinton  all,  but  for 
the  promise  to  Madge.  As  it  was,  he  simply 
answered  : 

"  Do  not  worry  about  me,  Uncle  Phil.  Some 
time  I  may  surprise  you,  for  indeed,  I  am  not 
as  indifferent  to  women  as  I  am  credited  with 
being." 


CHAPTER   IX. 

IT  is  always  an  unpleasant  incident  of  camp 
life  to  have  one  of  the  party  leave ;  it  is 
like  losing  a  member  of  one's  family,  and  the 
return  to  civilization  seems  quite  like  going  to  a 
far-away  country.  When  Ferris  announced  his 
departure  at  the  breakfast  table  the  next  morn 
ing  it  was  received  with  a  storm  of  protest.  But 
for  him  there  was  now  only  one  object  —  the 
winning  of  Madge  —  and  he  was  impatient  to 
talk  with  Burton  and  begin  the  search  upon  the 
success  of  which  his  happiness  depended.  It 
was  a  disappointment  to  him,  therefore,  when  he 
found  that  Burton  had  arranged  to  have  Joe 
take  him  back  to  the  cabins  by  the  river  route, 
which  would  consume  the  entire  day.  He  pro 
tested  that  he  was  strong  enough  to  make  the 
journey  through  the  woods,  but  Burton  insisted 
that  he  should  go  by  the  river,  and  as  Madge 
favored  this  plan,  he  reluctantly  yielded. 

Whitney  had  started  at  daylight  with  Charley 
to  investigate  a  lake  some  ten  miles  away  that 
gave  promise  of  good  shooting.      The  others, 
172 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  173 

with  the  exception  of  Mrs.  Elting,  walked  with 
Ferris  to  the  river  and  part  way  to  the  rapids, 
where  he  was  to  take  the  canoe.  He  had  stated 
as  the  reason  for  his  departure,  that  there  was  an 
important  matter  requiring  his  attention,  and  all 
except  Madge  thought  it  had  to  do  with  the 
labor  troubles,  and  asked  no  questions. 

"  I  do  hope,  Robert,"  said  Vinton,  as  they 
were  about  to  part,  "  that,  if  possible,  you  will 
join  us  again.  Now  promise  me  that  if  you  can 
finish  your  work  before  we  break  camp  you  will 
come  back." 

"  Indeed  I  will.  If  I  succeed  before  you  are 
out  of  the  woods  I  shall  take  the  first  train  for 
Keating.  The  errand  is  urgent  and  may  require 
some  time  for  its  accomplishment  —  but  I  am 
confident,"  he  added,  looking  at  Madge,  "that 
in  the  end  I  shall  succeed." 

"No  doubt  of  that,  my  boy,  for  you  always 
do  ;  but  see  that  the  end  is  reached  soon,  so  that 
we  may  have  you  again.  Will  you  stop  long  at 
Keating,  or  go  at  once  to  Chicago  ?  " 

"  To  Chicago  direct,  and  after  a  day  there  I 
shall  probably  go  East  for  a  few  days,  at  least. 
I  shall  see  you  in  Chicago  if  I  fail  to  meet  you 
here  again." 

As  Madge  gave  him  her  hand,  she  said 
simply  :  "  I  trust  we  shall  meet  again  very 
soon." 


174  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

A  furtive  glance  at  her  face  as  she  spoke  told 
Helen  that  the  girl's  heart  had  gone  with  Ferris. 

For  some  time  after  they  left  the  party,  Ferris 
and  Joe  walked  on  in  silence,  the  Indian  in  ad 
vance.  Suddenly  the  latter  stopped  and  look 
ing  back  said  eagerly:  "  Man  come."  A 
moment  later  Vinton  was  seen  hurrying  toward 
them. 

"  I  will  walk  a  little  way  with  you,"  he  said. 
"  It  occurred  to  me,  after  you  said  you  would  go 
East,  that  probably  you  would  be  in  New  York. 
If  so,  I  want  you  to  do  something  for  me.  This 
is  the  key  to  my  box  in  the  Surety  Company's 
office.  You  know  Judge  Durham,  the  president ; 
he  will  see  that  you  get  access  to  it.  In  the 
front  of  the  box  you  will  find  a  small  leather 
case.  If  you  come  here  before  we  break  camp 
bring  it  with  you;  otherwise,  keep  it  in  Chicago 
until  I  see  you.  Be  careful  of  it,  Robert,  for  it 
is  of  great  value  to  me  by  reason  of  its  associa 
tions." 

Vinton  accompanied  Ferris  and  Joe  to  the 
rapids  and  watched  them  disappear  beyond  the 
bend  of  the  river.  Then  turning  toward  camp, 
he  said  musingly :  "  How  like  his  father.  I 
seem  almost  to  be  living  my  youth  over  again." 

Burton  did  not  start  for  his  cabin  until  after 
luncheon.  Madge  walked  with  him  several 
miles  but  she  was  depressed  and  talked  little, 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  175 

"  What  is  it  that  troubles  you,  Madge  ?  "  he 
asked,  as  she  was  about  to  leave  him.  "  Isn't 
the  camp  congenial  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  The  trouble  is  with  myself.  I 
am  a  coward  ;  I  did  not  know  that  I  was  so 
weak.  I  am  weighed  down  by  a  feeling  of  lone 
liness  such  as  I  have  never  known.  It  is  fool 
ish,  I  know,  uncle  dear,  and  you  have  been  so 
good  to  me.  But  I  cannot  help  it  to-day.  To 
morrow,  perhaps,  I  shall  be  stronger." 

"  You  must  not  feel  so,  child.  I  will  go  back 
to  camp  with  you  and  send  Charley  to  meet 
Ferris  and  explain  my  absence.  There  is  no  real 
necessity  for  my  going." 

"  Yes,  but  there  is,  I  am  sure.  He  would  not 
go  without  seeing  you.  Indeed,  I  know  he 
would  not." 

Burton  turned  as  she  spoke.  He  saw  the  color 
mount  to  her  temples  and,  taking  her  hands, 
said  : 

"  What  does  this  mean,  Madge  dear  ?  Look 
at  me,  child.  Do  you  love  him  ?  " 

Her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  but  she  smiled 
sadly  through  them,  as  she  answered  slowly: 

"All -the  love  that  I  have  not  given  you, 
uncle,  is  his.  Do  not  ask  me  more.  He  will 
tell  you  all,  and  you  will  know  why  I  am  so 
wretched.  Good-bye,  uncle  dear.  Come  day 
after  to-morrow,  if  you  can,  and  you  will  find 


1 76  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

me  your  own  old  Madge  again."  And  brushing 
the  tears  from  her  eyes,  she  turned  and  walked 
slowly  back  over  the  trail. 

Burton  stood  for  a  moment  undecided 
whether  to  return  with  her  or  go  on,  then 
reluctantly  resumed  his  journey.  As  he  pon 
dered  over  what  Madge  had  said,  he  became 
more  and  more  perplexed.  It  did  not  occur 
to  him  at  first  that  Ferris  might  not  love  her, 
but  as  he  considered  how  utterly  miserable  she 
seemed,  the  possibility  of  some  such  untoward 
complication  suggested  itself.  Else  why  was 
she  so  unhappy,  and  why  was  he  so  anxious  to 
leave  the  camp?  Burton  had  conceived  a  strong 
attachment  for  Ferris  in  the  short  time  he  had 
known  him,  and  could  not  believe  that  he  was 
the  man  to  seek  to  win  a  woman's  love  unless 
his  own  were  given  in  return.  Madge  he  knew 
to  be  in  earnest,  and  he  knew,  too,  that  what 
ever  the  obstacle  in  the  way  of  her  union  with 
Ferris,  it  was  to  her  a  real  and,  as  she  believed, 
an  insurmountable  one.  His  one  great  concern 
was  for  her  happiness.  The  fact  that  the  realiza 
tion  of  that  happiness  would  take  her  from  him, 
did  not  lessen  his  desire  that  it  should  be  at 
tained.  Since  the  death  of  his  wife  she  had 
been  the  centre  of  his  thoughts  ;  had  she  been 
his  own  child,  he  could  not  have  lavished  upon 
her  a  greater  devotion.  What  could  it  be  that 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  177 

stood  between  her  and  her  love  for  Ferris  ? 
Again  and  again  he  found  himself  asking  this 
question,  as  he  hastened  toward  his  cabins. 

It  was  nearly  six  o'clock  when  he  reached 
them  and  found  that  Ferris  and  Joe  had  arrived 
an  hour  before.  Ferris  had  changed  his  cloth 
ing  and  was  watching  Adam  prepare  the  dinner. 
The  old  negro  was  not  inclined  to  be  talkative, 
but  when  Ferris  told  him  how  Madge  had  found 
him  with  his  arm  broken  and  had  taken  him 
into  camp,  and  how  kind  she  had  been  to  him 
since,  his  eyes  brightened  and  his  face  showed 
the  affection  with  which  he  regarded  her. 

"  She  never  told  me  that,  sah,  when  she  come 
here  after  Mister  Thomas.  She  jes'  said  you 
had  broke  your  arm,  but  she  didn't  give  herself 
no  credit.  But  it's  jes'  like  her.  She  allus  was 
a  cur'ous  child  ever  since  she  was  a  little  baby." 

"  Have  you  known  her  so  long  as  that, 
Adam?"  Ferris  asked. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  sah.  I  knowed  her  when  she 
fust  come.  I  mean  when  Mister  Thomas  saved 
her  and  her  ma  from  the  wreck  of  the  '  Stella.' 
Lord,  sah,  that  was  a  tur'ble  day.  You  oughter 
git  Mister  Thomas  to  tell  you  'bout  it.  I  was 
brought  up  on  the  marsh,  but  I  never  see  sech  a 
storm  as  we  had  that  time.  Out  of  the  whole 
crew  of  the  vessel  there  was  only  two  saved  be 
sides  Miss  Madge  and  her  ma,  and  they'd  a 


178  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

gone,  too,  if  Mister  Thomas  hadn't  saved  'em. 
That  seems  a  long  time  ago,  Mister  Ferris,  and 
I'm  getting  to  be  a  purty  ole  man,  but  I  can't 
never  forget  that  day  as  long  as  I  live." 

"Do  you  remember  her  mother?"  Ferris 
next  asked. 

"  Yes,  sah,  she  lived  more'n  a  month  after 
that,  but  I  reckon  she  never  got  over  the  cold 
she  ketched  at  that  time.  She  was  'xactly  like 
Miss  Madge  in  her  looks,  'ceptin'  a  good  deal 
paler,  but  I  don't  b'lieve  you  could  a  tole  'em 
apart.  When  I  seen  Miss  Madge  come  over  here 
the  other  night  paler'n  a  sheet  and  a  laying  in 
her  bed  like  she  was  dead,  I  tell  you,  sah,  it  give 
me  the  creeps,  she  looked  so  much  like  her  ma 
when  she  was  laid  out.  Poor  child,  but  she 
never  missed  her  ma,  for  Mister  Thomas  he's 
been  same  as  one  to  her  all'us." 

There  were  tears  in  the  old  negro's  eyes,  and 
he  might  have  broken  down  completely,  had 
not  his  quick  sense  of  smell  detected  something 
burning.  He  turned  just  in  time  to  save  the 
fish  on  the  stove,  and  Ferris,  walking  to  the 
door,  saw  Burton  coming  from  the  woods  across 
the  bridge. 

If  Burton  had  entertained  any  question  as  to 
Ferris's  honesty  of  heart,  it  disappeared  when 
he  looked  into  his  clear  gray  eyes  and  felt  the 
earnest  grasp  of  his  hand.  Ferris  noticed  that 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  1 79 

he  was  looking  unusually  serious,  but  attributed 
it  to  the  fatigue  of  his  long  tramp. 

"  It  will  probably  be  a  half  hour  before  din 
ner,  and  I  must  take  a  look  at  your  arm.  Perhaps 
I  can  relieve  you  of  the  splints,"  said  Burton,  as 
they  went  into  his  room. 

"Indeed,  I  hope  so,"  Ferris  replied,  "for  I 
shall  have  need  of  both  hands  and  of  my  head, 
too,  in  the  work  that  is  before  me." 

Burton  looked  him  squarely  in  the  face,  and 
seeing  the  earnest  questioning  expression,  Ferris 
added  with  a  half-smile,  the  color  coming  to  his 
cheeks  as  he  spoke : 

"  I  will  tell  you  what  this  work  is,  Doctor, 
for  it  concerns  you  as  well  as  myself.  You  have 
helped  me  before,  and  I  am  sure  you  can  in 
this.  It  has  to  do  with  Miss  Seaton  and  her 
happiness  as  well  as  mine.  I  have  asked  her 
to  be  my  wife." 

Ferris  paused,  and  a  smile  of  relief  came  into 
Burton's  face,  but  it  passed  as  Ferris  added  : 
"  She  has  refused  to  marry  me  until  she  knows 
more  about  her  parentage.  My  work  now  is  to 
learn  of  it.  Perhaps  I  should  have  consulted 
you  before  I  spoke  to  her,  but,  to  be  frank  with 
you,  I  was  in  no  mood  to  act  deliberately, 
though  your  opinion  of  me  might  then  have 
been  more  favorable." 

"No,   it  would  not  have  been.     I  am  con- 


l8o  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

ceited  enough  to  value  my  own  estimate  of  a 
man,  and  I  have  liked  you,  Robert,  since  we  first 
met.  I  will  help  you  so  far  as  I  possibly  can, 
and  most  gladly." 

But  Burton,  even  as  he  spoke,  realized  the 
nature  of  the  condition  that  stood  between  Fer 
ris  and  his  happiness.  He  knew  that  Madge 
would  not  alter  her  determination,  and  he  be 
lieved  that  the  attempt  to  establish  her  legiti 
macy  must  end  in  failure  or  worse.  In  his  pro 
fessional  work  he  had  learned  that  oftentimes 
the  most  beautiful  and  attractive  children  are 
born  outside  the  bonds  of  marriage;  so  that 
Madge's  charms  of  mind  and  body  brought  no 
argument  to  him  as  they  did  to  Ferris. 

"  From  what  you  know,  do  you  think  we  shall 
be  successful?"  Ferris  asked. 

Burton  paused  a  moment,  for  he  could  not 
find  it  in  his  heart  to  say  what  he  really  thought. 
He  answered: 

"  Let  me  think  about  it  until  after  dinner. 
We  will  talk  it  over  then." 

Burton  found  that  Ferris's  arm  had  healed 
so  rapidly  that  he  could  safely  remove  the  splints, 
which  he  did  upon  condition  that  for  at  least  a 
week  he  would  wear  it  in  a  sling.  There  was 
but  little  conversation  at  dinner,  for  each  was 
absorbed  in  his  own  schemes  for  solving  the 
problem  that  was  now  all-important  to  both. 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  l8l 

In  Burton's  room  they  sipped  their  coffee  in 
silence  in  front  of  the  small  fire  on  the  open 
hearth.  It  seemed  a  long  time  to  Ferris  since 
last  he  had  sat  in  that  room,  although  in  fact  only 
a  week  had  passed.  But  in  that  short  time  the 
purpose  of  his  life  had  changed.  Then  the  most 
absorbing  motive  was  his  work  and  the  study  in 
cident  to  it;  now  these  seemed  trivial  compared 
with  the  task  that  lay  between  him  and  the  gain 
ing  of  Madge.  Burton  had  lighted  a  cigar  with 
Ferris,  but  after  smoking  it  a  few  moments  he 
tossed  it  into  the  fire,  and  rising  restlessly,  filled 
his  pipe. 

"  I  can't  think  with  a  cigar.  It  is  too  dis 
tracting  to  one  who  is  out  of  the  habit  of  smok 
ing  them,  as  I  am  when  in  the  woods,"  he  said, 
as  he  resumed  his  seat. 

Ferris  rose  to  set  his  coffee  cup  upon  the 
table,  and  after  walking  back  and  forth  across 
the  room,  drew  his  chair  near  Burton's  and 
said: 

"What  effort  have  you  made  to  find  him?" 

"  To  be  honest  with  you,  Robert — but  little — 
and  for  the  reason  that  it  seemed  hopeless  with 
the  facts  I  had  before  me.  Had  I  foreseen  what 
has  now  happened  I  might  have  done  differently; 
but  I  have  always  been  able  to  give  her  every 
thing  she  needed  or  wished,  and  until  now  I 
have  never  realized  that  the  question  of  her 


1 82  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

parentage  might  be  of  such  serious  moment  to 
her." 

"  Why  is  it  that  you  regard  the  attempt  to 
find  her  father  as  hopeless?  Are  there  no  clues 
whatever?" 

"Yes,  but  I  am  sorry  to  say  they  do  not  point 
to  success.  I  will  tell  you  what  I  know  and  you 
can  then  judge  for  yourself." 

Burton  rose  from  his  chair,  and,  laying  his 
pipe  upon  the  mantel,  stood  with  his  back  to  the 
fire  and  his  hand  over  his  eyes,  as  if  trying  to 
recall  the  scenes  he  was  about  to  recount.  After 
a  moment's  silence,  he  said: 

"On  September  13,  1862,  the  Spanish  brig 
'  La  Stella '  was  wrecked  on  the  Delaware  coast 
near  the  town  of  Lewes.  We  had  been  having 
a  succession  of  storms  from  the  first  of  the  month, 
which  culminated  in  the  gale  of  the  i3th.  The 
Delaware  breakwater  was  at  that  time  incom 
plete,  but  it  gave  fair  shelter  and  was  laid  down 
on  the  charts.  For  several  days  much  wreckage 
had  come  ashore,  and  the  men  of  the  town  were 
well-nigh  exhausted  with  the  labor  of  patrol 
ling  the  beach.  I  had  been  on  duty  the  night  of 
the  1 2th  and  was  on  my  way  home,  when  I  saw, 
in  the  dim  light  of  the  dawn,  a  hull  out  at  sea 
and  in  distress.  Her  mainmast  and  mizzenmast 
had  completely  gone;  her  foretopmast,  also,  had 
been  blown  away,  and  a  ragged  jib  was  the  only 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  183 

sail  she  carried.  As  it  grew  lighter  we  could  see 
that  she  was  making  for  the  breakwater,  but  her 
hull  was  well  down  and  her  progress  slow.  By 
nine  o'clock  she  had  come  so  near  that  with  a 
strong  glass  we  could  see  the  men  at  the  pumps 
and  we  believed  that  she  would  make  the  anchor 
age  all  right.  When  within  two  miles  of  the 
breakwater,  the  captain,  who  was  at  the  wheel, 
was  washed  overboard,  and  the  man  who  took 
his  place  was  evidently  ignorant  of  the  coast, 
for  he  altered  her  course  and  headed  her  direct 
ly  for  the  point  of  shoals  inside  the  cape.  We 
tried  by  signals  to  have  them  stand  farther  out, 
but  our  signals  were  either  not  seen  or  were  mis 
understood,  for  in  half  an  hour  the  brig  was 
hard  aground  with  every  sea  washing  over  her 
decks.  There  were  but  eight  men  left  of  the 
crew  and  of  these  only  two  reached  shore  alive. 
The  ship's  boats  had  evidently  been  carried 
away  in  the  gale,  and  the  men  jumped  into  the 
sea  with  such  wreckage  as  they  could  find.  It 
was  impossible,  as  the  sea  was  running,  to  launch 
a  boat  in  the  surf,  and  we  could  offer  no  help 
whatever. 

"  After  the  ship  was  deserted,  as  we  thought,  I 
saw  a  woman  come  from  the  forward  companion- 
way  and  climb  to  the  cross-trees  of  the  fore 
mast.  How  she  managed  to  reach  that  position 
without  being  swept  off  by  the  sea  was  a  mys- 


184  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

tery,  but  she  did,  and  when  there  she  wedged 
herself  fast  in  the  rigging.  Again  and  again 
during  the  forenoon  we  tried  without  success  to 
launch  a  boat.  In  the  afternoon  the  wind  went 
down  somewhat.  I  could  find  only  four  men 
able  to  handle  a  boat.  After  much  difficulty  we 
succeeded  in  getting  through  the  surf  and 
headed  for  the  wreck,  but  in  our  exhausted  con 
dition  our  progress  was  very  slow.  We  were 
within  hailing  distance  and  were  pulling  round, 
for  we  had  drifted  to  leeward,  when  one  of  the 
oars  crabbed  and  the  boat,  caught  in  the  trough 
of  the  sea,  was  capsized.  My  men  clung  to  the 
boat,  but  when  I  came  to  the  surface  I  found  my 
self  at  some  distance  from  it,  still  holding  to  my 
oar.  I  swam  for  the  wreck  and  at  last  reached  it 
exhausted,  I  assure  you.  Fortunately,  the  sea, 
sweeping  over  the  deck,  left  me  there,  and  I 
managed  to  get  into  the  rigging.  Then  I  dis 
covered  that  the  woman  had  a  child  bound  close 
to  her  breast  by  a  woolen  scarf  or  shawl.  The 
child  was  Madge  and  she  was  sleeping  as  sweetly 
as  if  the  rocking  mast  were  a  cradle.  Her 
mother  was  almost  exhausted  from  exposure  and 
hunger.  I  signalled  to  the  men  on  the  shore 
for  help,  and  more  than  once  I  saw  them  fail  in 
the  attempt  to  launch  a  boat  through  the  surf. 
The  child  awoke  and  began  to  cry  with  hunger( 
but  the  exhausted  mother  could  give  her  no 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  185 

food.  My  God  !  I  shall  never  forget  that 
mother's  face  as  her  great  brown  eyes  looked 
despairingly  into  mine.  I  tried  to  encourage 
her  but  she  had  lost  hope.  For  a  long  time  she 
leaned  against  me  with  her  eyes  closed  and  her 
weak  hands  trying  to  comfort  the  sobbing  child. 
At  last  she  cried  faintly:  'I  am  growing  cold. 
Can  you  keep  baby  warm  ? '  I  tucked  the  little 
thing  in  the  front  of  my  woolen  shirt  and  the 
heat  of  my  body  soon  soothed  her  to  sleep.  The 
mother  smiled  faintly  and  said  :  '  If  you  should 
be  saved  will  you  be  very  good  to  her  ?  She  is 
so  dear  to  me.  How  can  I  leave  my  child  alone  ? 
Oh,  God,  protect  her.'  I  thought  she  was  dying, 
for  her  pulse  was  scarcely  perceptible.  The 
darkness  was  beginning  to  come  on,  so  that  I 
could  hardly  see  the  men  on  the  shore,  and 
although  the  sea  was  subsiding  somewhat,  I  had 
about  abandoned  hope,  when  I  heard  the  deep 
blast  of  a  steamer's  whistle,  and  turning  I  saw  an 
ocean  liner  heading  for  the  breakwater  and  not 
over  half  a  mile  away.  I  signalled  frantically, 
and  you  can  imagine  my  sensation  when  I  saw 
that  they  had  succeeded  in  lowering  a  boat  and 
had  sent  it  to  our  rescue.  Just  how  they  man 
aged  to  get  us  down  from  the  rigging  with  the 
sea  running  as  it  was,  is  still  a  mystery  to  me, 
and  I  have  no  recollection  of  boarding  the 
steamer,  which  we  did  behind  the  breakwater. 


1 86  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

When  I  recovered  consciousness  I  found  myself 
in  bed  with  the  child  beside  me  and  fast  asleep. 
The  ship's  surgeon  assured  me  that  my  child 
was  all  right  and  that  my  wife  (for  such  he  sup 
posed  the  babe's  mother  to  be)  was  resting 
quietly. 

"In  the  morning  we  went  ashore,  and  I  took 
Madge  and  her  mother  to  my  home.  Under  the 
tender  care  of  my  wife,  Madge  grew  strong  and 
well,  but  her  mother  never  recovered  from  the 
shock,  and  although  she  lived  nearly  two  months, 
was  never  able  to  leave  the  house.  During  the 
first  month  of  her  illness,  which  was  typhoid- 
pneumonia,  I  did  not  allow  her  to  talk  of  mat 
ters  that  might  excite  her.  When  her  con 
valescence  began  she  asked  permission  to  write 
a  letter,  and  when  it  was  finished  and  sealed,  she 
requested  me  to  direct  it  to  the  Secretary  of  the 
Navy,  which  I  did.  She  then  told  me  that  she 
had  written  to  learn  the  whereabouts  of  her  hus 
band,  from  whom  she  had  had  no  word  for  a 
long  time.  She  told  me  also  that  she  had 
married  secretly  an  American  officer  against  the 
will  of  her  father,  who  had  died  shortly  after, 
leaving  her  absolutely  alone  in  the  world.  I 
might  have  learned  more  from  her  then,  but  I 
found  that  it  was  taxing  her  strength  to  talk  of 
the  matter. 

"  Nearly  two  weeks  passed  before  any  word 


OUT    OF   THE    WOODS.  187 

came  from  Washington.  During  that  time  she 
continued  slowly  to  improve  and  was  finally  able 
to  sit  up.  Each  day  she  inquired  anxiously  for 
the  mail,  and  I  remember  the  eagerness  with 
which  she  opened  the  official  envelope  that  con 
tained  the  answer  to  her  letter.  She  had  been 
sitting  before  the  fire  with  Madge  upon  her  knee 
as  happy  as  a  cricket.  As  I  entered  the  room, 
she  arose,  holding  the  child  in  her  arms.  She 
read  the  letter  through,  and  seemed  stunned. 
Again  she  read  it,  and  then  let  it  fall  into 
the  open  fire  and  sank  into  a  chair.  I  has 
tened  to  her,  thinking  she  had  fainted,  but 
she  had  not.  She  said  almost  inaudibly,  '  Dead, 
dead;  oh,  my  child,  my  child.'  She  lived 
but  two  days  after  that.  Before  she  died  she 
asked  me  to  keep  her  fatherless  child  and  to 
call  her  Margery  Seaton.  I  promised  to  care 
for  her  as  my  own,  and  I  have  tried,  Robert,  to 
keep  my  promise." 

Burton  paused  a  moment  and,  passing  his 
hand  across  his  eyes,  continued  : 

"My  wife  was  an  invalid  and  we  had  no  chil 
dren  of  our  own,  having  lost  our  little  girl  six 
months  before.  For  two  years  I  struggled  at 
my  profession  in  Lewes.  Then  my  wife  died, 
and  almost  immediately  thereafter  my  uncle  was 
killed  in  the  war,  leaving  to  me  considerable 
property  in  Detroit,  to  which  place  I  at  once  re- 


1 88  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

moved.  I  searched  the  naval  register,  but  found 
there  no  officer  of  the  name  of  Seaton.  Several 
years  afterwards  I  went  to  Washington  and  en 
deavored  to  find  the  letter  of  inquiry,  thinking 
to  obtain  the  real  name  of  Madge's  father  from 
that.  The  letter  was  not  in  the  files  of  the  de 
partment,  or  at  any  rate,  could  not  be  found.  I 
have  made  no  further  effort  to  ascertain  her  par 
entage.  I  have  given  you,  I  think,  all  the  facts 
in  my  possession,  and  I  trust  that  you  may  see 
some  ray  of  hope,  for  I  confess  I  do  not.  Per 
haps  in  Lisbon,  from  which  port  the  '  Stella  ' 
sailed,  something  may  be  learned,  but  I  doubt  it." 

Ferris  was  silent  for  a  few  moments  after 
Burton  had  finished.  Then  he  said  : 

"No,  I  will  begin  my  search  in  this  country. 
I  will  go  first  to  Washington  and  endeavor  to 
obtain  possession  of  the  letter  written  by  Mrs. 
Seaton  to  the  Secretary  of  the  Navy.  Failing  to 
find  that,  I  will  learn  what  ships  were  stationed 
at  Lisbon  or  thereabouts  at  the  beginning  of  our 
war,  and  ascertain  the  names  of  their  officers  and 
of  those  that  were  killed  or  died  before  that  let 
ter  was  answered.  I  wish  Uncle  Phil  were  going 
with  me;  he  could  help  me  in  this.  However, 
some  of  my  father's  friends  are  stationed  in 
Washington,  and  I  am  sure  they  will  serve  me. 
What  became  of  the  two  sailors  who  escaped 
from  the  wreck  ?" 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  189 

"  One  went  to  sea  again  almost  immediately. 
The  other  is  living  in  New  York,  or  was  two 
years  ago,  when  I  ran  across  him  by  chance  on 
the  street.  His  name  is  Vironi  and  he  keeps  a 
sailor's  boarding  house." 

"If  I  am  unsuccessful  in  Washington,  I  shall 
look  him  up.  Perhaps  something  may  be  learned 
from  him.  Did  the  mother  leave  anything  that 
might  serve  in  the  way  of  identification  ?" 

"  No,  I  think  not.  She  had  no  jewelry,  ex 
cept  a  small  locket  containing  a  knot  of  brown 
hair,  which  she  wore  on  a  chain  about  her  neck, 
and  Madge,  I  think,  wears  it  now.  On  her  left 
hand  she  wore  a  plain  gold  ring,  which  was 
buried  with  her.  I  understood  from  her  that 
everything  she  possessed  was  lost  in  the  wreck." 

"  Was  no  attempt  made  to  recover  the  cargo  ?  " 

"  Not  at  the  time ;  and  within  a  few  days  the 
hull  went  to  pieces,  and  whatever  of  the  cargo 
drifted  ashore  was  gathered  up  by  wreckers." 

Thus  question  after  question  was  put  to  Bur 
ton  by  Ferris,  but  in  the  end  no  new  facts  were 
discovered.  At  last  the  young  man  asked  : 

"  From  what  you  saw  of  Mrs.  Seaton,  do  you 
believe  that  she  was  an  honest  woman  ?  " 

"  I  am  certain  of  that,"  was  the  prompt  reply. 

"  Then  why  do  you  doubt  that  she  was  mar 
ried  to  Madge's  father?" 

"  The  fact  that  she  was  honest,  while  tending 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

to  prove  that  she  was  married,  is  by  no  means 
conclusive.  Every  good  and  pure  woman  in  her 
inmost  soul  recognizes  love  as  the  supreme  pre 
requisite  to  marriage.  To  such,  love  sometimes 
comes  with  so  bewildering  an  intensity  that  for 
the  time  at  least  the  existence  of  other  pre 
requisites  may  be  forgotten.  Under  such  con 
ditions,  when  a  woman  yields  the  citadel  of  her 
heart  the  surrender  may  be  absolute,  if  the  cap 
tor  be  a  dastard.  A  woman's  greatest  strength 
is  in  her  power  to  love,  and  therein,  too,  lies  her 
greatest  weakness.  I  do  not  say  that  this  was 
the  case  with  Madge's  mother  ;  but  the  fact  that 
her  father  for  a  year  gave  no  sign  of  his  purpose 
to  return  and  that  he  apparently  deceived  her  as 
to  his  real  name,  makes  me  think  that  in  other 
ways  he  was  false  to  her.  Perhaps  the  formality 
of  a  marriage  may  have  been  gone  through,  but 
I  could  never  see  what  was  to  be  gained  by 
establishing  it.  The  man  was  a  villain  either  in 
his  betrayal  of  her  without  marriage  or  by  his 
desertion  of  her  afterwards.  For  this  reason  I 
have  discouraged  Madge  in  her  efforts  to  find 
him." 

It  was  late  when  Ferris  and  Burton  parted 
for  the  night  and  much  later  before  Ferris  fell 
asleep.  As  they  were  starting  for  Keating  on 
the  following  morning,  Burton  called  Ferris  to 
his  room  and  gave  him  the  photograph  of  Madge. 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"  Keep  this,  Robert,"  he  said.  "  Some  day  I 
trust  you  may  claim  the  original,  though  she  is 
dearer  to  me  than  all  else  in  the  world." 

At  the  mine  they  found  John  Brent  in  high 
spirits.  He  was  as  delighted  with  the  new  ma 
chinery  as  a  child  with  a  new  toy,  and  the  results 
of  the  first  week's  work  under  the  tonnage  scale 
gave  assurance  of  the  complete  fulfillment  of 
their  promises  to  the  men.  In  his  inquiries, 
Ferris  did  not  forget  Jack  Turnley,  who  had 
fully  recovered.  Brent  liked  the  fellow  and  was 
only  too  glad  to  carry  out  Ferris's  wishes  as  to 
his  reinstatement.  Their  reward  was  prompt,  for 
when  Jack  reported  for  duty  after  dinner,  he 
thanked  them  both  and  then  inquired  of  Brent 
rather  sheepishly  if  he  thought  "  Mr.  Ferris  and 
Doc  Burton  would  be  offended  if  he  asked  them 
to  the  weddin'  to-morrow  night." 

"Thus  love  will  find  a  way,"  said  Ferris  to 
Burton,  with  a  smile. 

"And  so  may  it  ever,"  replied  Burton, 
significantly. 

Burton  waited  to  see  Ferris  aboard  the  south 
bound  express  before  leaving  the  town.  It  was 
understood  that  the  latter  should  report  the  re 
sult  of  his  eastern  trip,  and  as  soon  as  the  camp 
ing  party  came  out  of  the  woods,  Burton  would 
arrange  his  affairs  and  join  in  the  search. 

"  Don't  be  discouraged,  Robert,"  he  said,  as 


IQ2  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

they  heard  the  distant  whistle  of  the  train. 
"There  may  be  a  chance  of  success,  and  we  will 
not  abandon  hope  until  we  have  exhausted  every 
possible  resource." 

"Discouraged?  Believe  me,  I  am  not.  It 
will  take  years  of  failure  to  teach  me  that  word." 

As  the  train  drew  away  from  the  station,  Bur 
ton  mounted  his  horse  and  started  for  his  cabin, 
pausing  a  moment  on  the  track  to  watch  the  red 
signal  lights  on  the  rear  car  shining  like  two 
great  eyes  down  the  long  vista  of  towering  pines. 
Then  moving  on,  he  said  with  a  half  sigh  : 
"Surely,  such  courage  deserves  to  win.  Hope 
and  youth,  how  they  go  hand  in  hand.  When 
hope  dies,  youth  may  not  long  survive." 


CHAPTER  X. 

A  DAY  in  Chicago  was  sufficient  for  Ferris 
to  get  his  affairs  in  shape  for  his  Eastern 
trip,  and  within  twenty-four  hours  after  leaving 
Keating,  he  was  on  the  train  for  Washington. 
He  had  taken  but  ten  days'  vacation  in  two 
years,  and  his  request  for  two  months'  leave  was 
readily  approved  by  the  president  of  the  com 
pany,  who  congratulated  him  most  heartily  on 
the  successful  termination  of  the  troubles  at  the 
mines. 

"  Which  way  are  you  going,  Robert  ? "  he 
asked,  when  Ferris  had  told  him  that  he  would 
start  at  once. 

"  To  Washington  first,  and  then  probably  to 
New  York.  After  that  my  movements  are  un 
certain." 

"  There  are  no  elk  or  bear  in  either  of  those 
places.  But  perhaps  you  are  in  pursuit  of  fairer 
game  this  time,"  he  added,  quizzingly. 

Ferris  colored  as  he  answered  evasively  : 
"  No,  the  elk  and  bear  are  safe  from  me  this 
fall." 


IQ4  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

He  had  not  been  in  Washington  for  several 
years,  but  when  he  was  a  boy  Vinton  had  been 
stationed  there  for  three  years,  and  his  memories 
of  the  place  were  most  pleasant.  It  was  dusk  as 
his  train  neared  the  city.  From  the  car  window 
he  could  see  the  dome  of  the  capitol  looming 
high  above  the  intervening  hills  and  trees  and 
squalid  houses  between  it  and  the  river.  There 
is  a  personality  almost  about  that  towering  mass 
of  painted  iron  that  impresses  anyone  familiar 
with  it.  To  Ferris  it  brought  back  his  childhood 
days  when  he  had  romped  through  its  vast  vault 
and  climbed  its  seemingly  interminable  winding 
stairway,  with  Vinton  watching  him  as  anxiously 
as  if  he  were  his  own. 

"  Dear  old  Uncle  Phil,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"  If  you  were  only  with  me  now —  when  I  need 
you  as  never  before." 

At  that  time  —  and  perhaps  it  is  so  now  — 
"  The  Ebbitt  House  "  was  the  favored  hostelry 
of  the  army  and  navy.  As  the  old  manager 
had  known  Vinton,  Ferris  was  always  sure  of  a 
cordial  welcome  and  a  comfortable  room  ;  and 
in  these  he  was  not  disappointed  this  time,  for 
the  manager  greeted  him  warmly  and  personally, 
showed  him  to  "  Captain  Vinton's  old  quarters," 
as  he  called  a  suite  of  rooms  high  up  on  the 
south  side  and  overlooking  the  monument 
grounds  and  the  river  beyond. 


OUT    OF   THE    WOODS.  1 95 

Ferris  had  dressed  for  dinner  and  was  stand 
ing  in  front  of  the  open  window  looking  down 
on  the  lights  of  the  quiet  city,  when  there  was  a 
knock  at  the  door,  and  a  negro  servant  brought 
him  a  card  on  which  was  engraved  the  name 
"  Mr.  Francis  Herndon,"  and  beneath  it  the  let 
ters  "  U.  S.  N." 

"  Ah ! "  exclaimed  Ferris,  with  pleasure. 
"  Captain  Herndon.  Say  that  I  will  be  down 
in  a  moment." 

"  Yes,  sah,  I  will  ax  de  Commodore  to  wait 
in  de  'ception  room,"  replied  the  negro,  with 
emphasis  on  the  officer's  title,  as  he  disappeared 
—  a  reminder  to  Ferris  that  his  old  friend  had 
at  last  received  the  long  coveted  promotion. 

Ferris  had  known  Herndon  ever  since  he 
could  remember,  for  the  latter  was  one  of  those 
fortunate  officers  who,  in  some  mysterious  way, 
manage  to  get  the  choicest  assignments,  and 
with  the  exception  of  the  necessary  minimum 
amount  of  sea  duty,  he  had  been  stationed 
either  at  Washington  or  New  York  during  the 
greater  part  of  his  service.  He  had  been  a  class 
mate  and  close  friend  of  Ferris's  father  and  an 
intimate  of  Vinton.  Ferris  had  not  seen  him 
for  several  years,  but  his  appearance  had  changed 
very  little.  He  was  a  stout  man,  with  a  floridity 
of  complexion  acquired  originally  by  exposure 
and  perpetuated  by  a  generous  indulgence  in 


196  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

good  living — a  type  not  infrequent  in  army 
and  navy  circles.  His  heart  was  as  young  as 
ever,  and  his  laugh  reminded  Ferris  of  the 
times  when  he  used  to  see  him  and  Vinton 
reminiscent  over  their  bottle  of  ancient  Madeira. 
He  greeted  Ferris  warmly,  explaining  that  he 
had  chanced  to  see  his  name  on  the  hotel  regis 
ter  on  his  way  to  dinner  and  thought  that,  as  he 
was  alone,  they  might  dine  together.  His 
family,  he  added,  were  at  Newport  for  the  sum 
mer.  He  proved  to  be  the  man  of  all  others 
who  could  be  of  assistance  to  Ferris  in  his  Wash 
ington  search  ;  for  he  was  on  duty  at  the  Navy 
Department  and  had  easy  access  to  such  of  its 
records  as  might  be  of  service.  Without  going 
into  details  or  giving  names,  Ferris  explained  to 
him  in  a  general  way  that  the  purpose  of  his 
visit  was  to  obtain  as  full  and  accurate  informa 
tion  as  possible  regarding  the  officers  of  the  Med 
iterranean  squadron  stationed  in  proximity  to 
Lisbon  in  the  summer  of  1861. 

"  Our  squadron  was  small  at  that  time,  for 
Congress  was  as  niggardly  then  as  now  in  the 
matter  of  naval  appropriations,"  said  Herndon, 
closing  his  eyes  a  moment,  as  if  the  revival  of 
such  ancient  memories  was  an  effort.  "  There 
were  but  four  ships  in  all,  and  of  these  I  think 
only  the  old  '  Macedonian  '  stopped  for  any  con 
siderable  length  of  time  at  Lisbon.  Indeed,  I 


OUT   OF   THE    WOODS.  1 97 

do  not  now  recall  that  during  our  stay  there  any 
of  the  others  touched  even,  until  we  got  our  sail 
ing  orders  and  waited  for  the  'Saratoga'  to  join 
us.  I  was  junior  lieutenant  on  the  '  Macedonian ' 
at  that  time  with  Vinton  and  your  father.  Lord, 
Bob,  how  you  resemble  him !  I  loved  him  as 
my  own  brother.  But  so  did  all  of  us,  for  that 
matter  ;  "  and  there  was  a  tone  of  pathos  in  the 
old  fellow's  voice  as  he  paused. 

Then  he  gave  Ferris  a  list  of  the  officers  and 
a  brief  sketch  of  each,  as  far  as  he  could  recall 
them,  and  the  extent  and  exactness  of  his  re 
collection  were  astonishing.  It  appeared  that 
when  the  "Macedonian"  was  ordered  home  she 
was  detailed  for  duty  at  New  York,  being  con 
sidered  about  the  poorest  of  our  ships  then  in 
service.  Vinton  and  Ferris's  father  and  a  young 
ensign  named  Herrick  had  been  sent  to  the 
scene  of  hostilities  immediately  upon  their  re 
turn,  but  except  these  and  a  few  of  the  older 
officers  there  were  no  changes  in  the  ship's  de 
tail  of  officers  until  the  winter  of  1862-1863. 
Herrick  was  killed  in  his  first  engagement, 
and  Ferris's  father  within  a  few  months  there 
after. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  something  more  about 
Ensign  Herrick?"  Ferris  asked,  since  from 
what  Herndon  had  said,  he  seemed  the  only 
one  whose  career  might  fit  the  facts  he  had 


IQ8  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

gathered  from  Burton.  "Was  he  fond  of  so 
ciety?" 

"Oh,  yes,  very  —  in  his  cold-blooded  way," 
Herndon  answered.  "  He  was  not  popular  with 
our  mess,  although  he  was  there  no  oftener  than 
was  necessary  ;  for  he  was  eternally  tagging 
after  the  petticoats.  In  this  last  respect,  how 
ever,  your  father  was  not  a  bad  second,  Robert — 
a  peculiarity  that  I  understand  you  have  not  in 
herited." 

Ferris  smiled,  and  Herndon  continued  :  "  By- 
the-by,  that  reminds  me  of  a  bit  of  romance 
that  was  gossiped  generally  aboard  ship  at  that 
time.  Those  of  us  who  had  known  Vinton 
well  have  always  considered  it  the  affair  of  his 
life.  Your  father  and  he  were  inseparable  and, 
indeed,  had  been,  I  believe,  from  childhood. 
Your  mother  had  been  dead  about  a  year,  and 
after  her  death  your  father  got  sea  duty,  I  think 
to  be  near  Vinton.  During  the  first  few  months 
of  our  cruise  he  was  an  utter  recluse,  but  finally 
Phil  managed  to  drag  him  out  of  his  retirement, 
and  during  the  latter  part  of  our  stay  at  Lis 
bon  he  developed  into  a  social  devotee.  Both 
he  and  Vinton  spoke  Spanish  fluently,  and  of 
course  were  invited  everywhere,  and  went.  To 
make  a  long  story  short,  they  both  fell  in  love 
with  the  same  girl  —  at  least  that  was  the  gen 
eral  supposition  —  the  daughter  of  an  old  Eng- 


OUT   OF   THE    WOODS.  1 99 

lishman  living  in  Lisbon.  Let  me  see,  what 
was  her  name?  "  Herndon  stopped  for  a  mo 
ment  trying  vainly  to  recall  it.  Ferris  tried 
to  appear  interested  although  his  thought  was 
of  Herrick,  who  seemed  to  him  the  man  about 
whom  he  must  learn  more.  "  The  name  escapes 
me  just  now ;  I  may  recall  it  presently.  But 
no  matter,"  Herndon  continued.  "Just  before 
we  sailed  it  was  commonly  rumored,  and  prob 
ably  true,  that  your  father  and  she  were  en 
gaged  and  that  poor  Phil  had  got  the  mitten. 
At  any  rate  from  that  time  he  was  a  very  dif 
ferent  fellow.  Singularly  enough,  he  and  your 
father  remained  fast  friends,  but  after  one  ex 
periment  the  girl's  name  was  never  mentioned 
at  the  mess  when  they  were  present.  I  have 
never  heard  Phil  allude  to  her  since,  and  the 
matter  was  soon  forgotten  when  we  reached 
home  and  found  the  condition  of  affairs  here. 
But  it  has  always  seemed  to  account  to  me  for 
the  fact  that  the  old  chap  has  never  married." 

As  soon  as  might  be  Ferris  again  brought  the 
conversation  around  to  Herrick,  and  before  the 
dinner  was  over,  had  obtained  from  Herndon 
all  the  information  that  the  latter  possessed 
regarding  him.  The  evening  they  spent  to 
gether  at  the  Club,  and  when  they  separated  for 
the  night  it  was  with  the  understanding  that 
they  should  meet  the  next  morning  at  the  De- 


2OO  OUT    OF   THE    WOODS. 

partment  in  order  to  verify  Herndon's  recollec 
tion  of  names  and  dates. 

On  his  way  from  the  Club  to  the  hotel  Ferris 
walked  through  La  Fayette  Square,  and  in  the 
quiet  shadow  of  one  of  its  dense  shrubs,  sat 
down  to  think  over  what  he  had  learned  from 
Herndon.  To  him  the  most  discouraging  fea 
ture  of  the  case  thus  far,  was  the  fact  that  from 
Herndon's  account  Herrick  (toward  whom  the 
circumstances,  as  he  viewed  them,  pointed  most 
strongly  as  the  subject  of  his  search,  on  the  as 
sumption,  at  least,  that  Madge's  father  was  an 
officer  of  the  American  ship  stationed  at  Lis 
bon)  was  so  flippant  and  frivolous  in  affairs  of 
the  heart  that  in  all  probability  he  had  never 
married.  Herrick's  sister  was  living  at  their  old 
home  in  Boston,  and  Ferris  decided  that  he 
would  visit  there,  stopping  in  New  York  long 
enough  to  look  up  the  sailor  Vironi  and  to  get 
Vinton's  package  from  the  Surety  Company's 
office.  But  he  anticipated  obtaining  little  in 
formation  of  value  from  Vironi  that  could  serve 
him  on  this  side  of  the  water. 

When  Herndon  reached  the  Navy  Depart 
ment  the  next  morning  he  found  Ferris  await 
ing  him,  and  within  an  hour  they  had  consulted 
the  records  and  found  that  the  information 
given  by  Herndon  the  evening  before  was  in  all 
essential  points  correct.  There  was  nothing 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  2OI 

more,  therefore,  to  he  done  except  to  institute  a 
search  for  the  letter  that  Madge's  mother  had 
written  to  the  Secretary  of  the  Navy  twenty-six 
years  before  and  for  the  answer  to  it.  For  ob 
vious  reasons  Ferris  had  avoided  mentioning  to 
Herndon  the  name  of  Seaton,  or  informing  him 
definitely  as  to  the  object  of  his  investigation. 
Now,  however,  he  felt  that  the  secret  would  be 
safe  with  him,  and  if  he  were  to  be  of  further 
assistance  he  must  know  all.  It  seemed  more 
than  probable  to  Ferris  that  Herndon  should 
have  known  Herrick's  friends  and  might  recog 
nize  Madge's  mother  even  from  the  meager 
description  that  Burton  had  given  of  her. 

After  Herndon  had  dispatched  the  routine 
work  of  his  office  they  went  to  luncheon  to 
gether,  and  during  the  meal  Ferris  told  him 
of  his  recent  camping  experience  and  of  the 
conditions  that  stood  in  the  way  of  his  mar 
riage,  and  gave  him  as  full  an  account  as  pos 
sible  of  the  wreck  of  the  "Stella,"  mentioning 
also  the  writing  by  Madge's  mother  of  the  let 
ter  to  the  Secretary  of  the  Navy  and  its  answer. 
Herndon's  face  wore  a  troubled  look  as  Ferris 
finished  the  narration. 

"  Robert,"  he  said,  with  a  solemnity  of  voice 
and  manner  quite  unusual  to  him,  "  You  are 
following  a  fool's  errand.  Take  my  advice  and 


2O2  OUT   OF   THE    WOODS. 

abandon  this  search,  for  its  result,  I  believe,  can 
be  only  failure  or  worse." 

"  There  are  two  reasons,"  Ferris  answered, 
"  why  I  cannot  do  so  until  every  possible  clue 
has  been  exhausted.  In  the  first  place  I  do  not 
believe  that  there  would  be  any  hope  of  my 
gaining  Miss  Seaton  if  my  search  should  fail, 
and  then,  too,  I  have  promised  her  that  I  would 
leave  no  stone  unturned.  I  am  not  discouraged 
yet.  I  hope  to  prove  that  Mrs.  Seaton  was  mar 
ried  to  Herrick.  Do  you  recall  any  one  that 
might  answer  the  description  of  Mrs.  Seaton?" 

Herndon  paused  a  moment  as  if  undecided 
what  answer  to  make;  then  he  said: 

"  Yes,  there  was  an  English  girl,  whose  father 
had  been  retired  from  the  diplomatic  service  and 
was  living  on  a  small  pension,  I  believe.  I  knew 
her  slightly  and  a  charming  girl  she  was.  Her 
mother  was  doubtless  Spanish  or  Portuguese,  for 
the  daughter  was  very  dark  and  had  the  warm 
blood  of  the  South  in  her  veins.  Her  name  was 
Margery  Thome." 

"Did  Herrick  know  her  well?"  Ferris  next 
asked. 

"  Yes,  all  the  younger  officers  did.  She  was  a 
great  favorite." 

"  Then  do  you  think  it  improbable  that  it 
may  appear  that  he  was  married  to  her?  " 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  2O3 

"  Utterly.  Herrick  was  a  man  of  the  world  — 
ambitious,  discreet  and  heartless.  He  was  too 
aspiring  socially  to  permit  himself  to  marry  a 
woman  who  had  nothing  to  give  beyond  her 
personal  attractions,  and  his  sense  of  honor  and 
discretion  were  more  than  ample  to  save  his 
small  heart  from  any  embarrassing  entangle 
ments.  The  code  of  morals  of  some  men  is 
comprehended  in  the  one  word  '  discretion.' 
He  was  essentially  of  that  type.  To  such,  a 
mesalliance  were  worse  than  a  crime." 

"  Might  he  not  have  been  married  to  her 
secretly?"  Ferris  next  asked. 

"Yes,  such  a  thing  was  possible,  although 
altogether  improbable.  I  have  known  of  such 
follies,  but  Herrick  was  not  the  man  to  commit 
them." 

The  conversation  next  turned  to  the  proba 
bility  of  finding  the  letter  written  by  Mrs.  Sea- 
ton  to  the  Secretary  of  the  Navy,  and  it  seemed 
reasonably  certain  that,  if  found,  it  must  give 
the  name  of  the  officer  to  whom  she  at  least 
thought  herself  married. 

"  I  think  it  exceedingly  doubtful  if  we  can  find 
either  the  letter  or  its  answer,  Robert,"  Herndon 
said.  "  At  the  time  it  was  written  the  Depart 
ment  was  overwhelmed  with  correspondence, 
and  its  clerical  force  was  altogether  inadequate 
and  incompetent  to  handle  the  mass  of  work 


2O4  OUT    OF   THE    WOODS. 

that  the  first  years  of  the  war  brought  upon  it. 
Then,  too,  the  records  of  the  Department  have 
been  moved  a  number  of  times  from  one  build 
ing  to  another,  and  have  been  ransacked  so 
often  and  so  carelessly,  that  they  are  just  now  in 
a  most  unsatisfactory  condition.  Still,  I  will 
make  every  possible  effort  in  this  direction,  but 
it  may  require  much  time.  I  will  write  to  you 
as  soon  as  the  search  is  concluded.  In  the  mean 
time  what  shall  you  do?  " 

"  I  will  go  to-night  to  New  York  and  from 
there  to  Boston,  for  I  still  believe  that  some 
thing  may  be  learned  from  Herrick's  family. 
Failing  to  gain  any  information  there,  I  will  re 
turn  to  Chicago  and  see  Vinton  and  then  arrange 
to  go  abroad  to  continue  the  search." 

A  half-hour  later,  Ferris  went  to  the  hotel, 
and  having  packed  his  bag,  took  the  four  o'clock 
train  for  New  York.  Notwithstanding  all  that 
Herndon  had  told  him  regarding  Herrick,  he 
still  believed  that  the  man  was  Madge's  father  and 
that  it  only  remained  to  establish  the  fact  that 
her  mother  and  he  had  been  married.  This  he 
hoped  to  learn  in  some  way  from  Herrick's  rela 
tives. 

When  Ferris  left  him,  Herndon  found  him 
self  in  a  quandary.  From  the  description  of  Mrs. 
Seaton  he  believed  that  she  was  no  other  than 
Margery  Thome,  to  whom  Ferris's  father 


OUT    OF   THE    WOODS.  2O5 

supposed  to  be  engaged  at  the  time  they  sailed 
from  Lisbon.  He  had  not  the  heart  to  tell  Fer 
ris  this,  yet  when  he  had  gone  he  regretted  that 
he  had  not  done  so.  In  the  light  of  what  he 
had  learned  he  now  believed  that  Edward  Ferris 
and  Margery  Thome  had  been  secretly  married 
and  that  for  some  reason  the  fact  had  never 
been  made  public.  When  they  sailed  from  Lis 
bon,  it  was  supposed  that  the  rebellion  was  but 
little  more  than  a  political  scare  and  that  a  few 
months  at  most  would  see  it  completely  crushed 
out.  Doubtless  Edward  Ferris  felt  sure  (at  least 
so  Herndon  reasoned),  that  at  the  end  of  that 
time  he  could  return  and  claim  his  bride.  But 
on  reaching  this  country,  the  serious  condition  of 
affairs  rendered  it  impossible  to  obtain  a  leave 
of  absence  even  had  he  asked  for  one,  and  his 
death  occurred  within  a  year  thereafter.  Whether 
or  not  it  could  be  proved  that  there  had  been  a 
marriage,  Herndon  was  convinced  that  Edward 
Ferris  was  Margery  Seaton's  father.  His  first 
impulse  was  to  follow  Ferris  to  New  York  and 
explain  fully  to  him  the  miserable  situation. 
He  realized  that  something  should  be  done,  and 
without  delay.  After  walking  the  floor  of  his 
office  during  the  greater  part  of  the  afternoon, 
he  decided  that  the  better  (and  for  him,  easier,) 
course  would  be  to  write  to  Ferris  and  to  Vinton 
also.  His  letter  to  Ferris  was  characteristic  of 


2O6  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

the  writer  —  brief,  straightforward  and  full  of 
sympathy.  When  he  had  finished  it  he  was  tired, 
for  into  his  easy-going  life  such  worrisome  mat 
ters  seldom  intruded,  and  the  letter  to  Vinton 
was  left  for  the  morrow. 

When  Ferris  received  Herndon's  letter  on  the 
morning  after  his  arrival  in  New  York,  he  was 
incensed,  for  it  seemed  to  him  altogether  un 
reasonable  that  Herndon,  knowing  his  father  as 
intimately  as  he  had,  could  think  it  possible  that 
he  had  acted  so  dishonorably.  Had  the  letter 
set  out  as  fully  as  Herndon  had  explained  to 
himself,  how  his  father  had  doubtless  intended 
to  return  to  Lisbon  without  delay,  but  how, 
under  the  existing  condition  of  affairs  such  a  re 
turn  was  rendered  impossible,  it  might  have  had 
more  weight.  As  it  was,  it  did  not  shake  his 
belief  in  the  correctness  of  his  own  view  in  the 
least,  and  without  answering  the  letter  he  tossed 
it  into  the  fire. 

On  reaching  the  office  of  the  Surety  Company 
he  was  disappointed  to  find  that  Judge  Durham 
was  in  Boston  and  was  not  expected  to  return 
for  several  days.  Without  his  order  it  would  be 
impossible  to  obtain  the  package  Vinton  had  re 
quested  him  to  bring.  As  there  was  no  train 
leaving  for  Boston  until  evening,  he  decided  to 
find,  if  possible,  the  sailor,  Vironi.  This  he 
accomplished  after  a  hunt  of  several  hours 


OUT   OF   THE    WOODS.  2O7 

through  the  most  villainous  part  of  the  city. 
But  Vironi  was  in  such  a  drunken  state  that 
nothing  whatever  could  be  learned  from  him. 

When  he  reached  Boston  on  the  following 
morning,  Ferris  found  Judge  Durham,  whom  he 
had  long  known,  and  obtained  from  him  the 
necessary  order  to  enable  him  to  get  Vinton's 
package.  After  this,  he  looked  up  the  address 
of  Miss  Herrick  and  discovered  that  she  lived 
but  a  short  distance  from  his  hotel.  The  house 
was  on  the  edge  of  the  business  centre  of  the 
city,  and  most  of  its  neighbors  had  already 
yielded  to  the  inroads  of  trade.  He  had  not  at 
tempted  to  formulate  any  plan  of  questioning 
Miss  Herrick,  and  as  he  waited  her  coming  in 
the  old  fashioned  drawing-room,  he  began  to 
feel  not  a  little  embarrassment.  But  this  disap 
peared  as  soon  as  she  entered  and  learned  that 
he  was  the  son  of  her  brother's  classmate.  She 
evidently  considered  herself  as  of  the  navy,  be 
cause  her  father  had  been  a  commodore,  and 
regarding  Ferris  in  the  same  light,  she  received 
him  most  cordially.  As  delicately  as  possible, 
he  explained  to  her  that  he  was  endeavoring  to 
obtain  information  in  regard  to  certain  of  his 
father's  friends,  and  she,  no  doubt  thinking  that 
he  was  engaged  upon  some  historical  sketch, 
was  profuse  enough  in  her  elaboration  of  her 
brother's  bravery,  his  intelligence  and  other 


2O8  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

good   qualities,   real  or  imagined,   that  to  her 
mind  might  interest  the  public. 

"  Was  your  brother  married  or  engaged  to  be 
married  at  the  time  of  his  death  ? "  Ferris  at 
length  asked,  as  Miss  Herrick  had  failed  thus 
far  to  enlighten  him  on  this  one  important  point. 

"  I  scarcely  think  that  sad  affair  of  his  can  in 
terest  the  public,  Mr.  Ferris,"  she  answered 
rather  coldly. 

"  Indeed,  I  had  no  thought  to  make  it  public, 
I  assure  you.  It  was  merely  my  interest  that 
prompted  me  to  ask,"  said  Ferris,  now  feeling 
certain  that  he  was  in  a  way  to  discover  that  his 
conclusion  in  regard  to  Herrick  was  correct. 

Miss  Herrick  hesitated  a  moment  before  an 
swering. 

"  My  brother  was  to  have  been  married  on  the 
day  on  which  he  was  killed.  When  he  returned 
from  Portugal  in  1861,  my  mother  and  I  met 
him  in  New  York,  since  it  was  impossible  for 
him  to  obtain  leave  of  absence.  His  fiancee 
was  then  travelling  in  Europe  with  her  parents, 
but  it  was  arranged  that  she  should  be  married 
from  our  house.  When  she  arrived  she  found 
that  he  had  been  ordered  to  the  South,  and  within 
a  week  came  the  news  of  his  death.  The  poor 
girl  never  recovered  from  the  shock,  and  two 
months  afterwards  died  here.  That  is  her  por 
trait,"  and  Miss  Herrick  pointed  to  a  painting 


OUT   OF   THE    WOODS.  2OQ 

of  a  beautiful  young  woman  —  a  perfect  type  of 
a  delicate  blonde. 

For  the  first  time  since  he  left  Madge,  Ferris 
was  discouraged.  He  had  felt  so  confident  of  suc 
cess  after  what  he  had  heard  from  Herndon,  that 
it  was  with  a  feeling  of  heartsickness  that  he 
turned  from  the  Herrick  homestead  and  late  in 
the  day  took  the  train  for  New  York. 

On  the  morning  after  his  return  he  again 
sought  the  sailor,  Vironi,  and  finding  him  com 
paratively  sober,  questioned  him  with  particu 
larity  as  to  the  last  voyage  and  wreck  of  the 
"  Stella;  "  but  beyond  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Seaton 
had  boarded  the  ship  from  a  small  boat,  after 
they  had  cleared  from  Lisbon,  and  that  she  was 
given  the  captain's  stateroom  and  treated  as  a 
"great  lady,"  as  Vironi  expressed  it,  nothing 
was  learned  from  him.  After  this  new  disap 
pointment  Ferris  scarcely  knew  what  step  to  take 
next.  That  Mrs.  Seaton  and  Margery  Thorne 
were  one,  he  was  confident,  but  that  his  father 
should  have  married  and  deserted  her  he  could 
not  believe  for  a  moment. 

It  was  with  a  heavy  heart  that  he  decided  to 
return  to  Chicago  and  learn  from  Vinton  what 
he  might  recall  of  her,  before  attempting  to  fol 
low  the  search  further,  either  in  this  country  or 
abroad. 

In  the  afternoon  he  went  to  the  Surety  Com- 


2IO  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

pany's  office  and  obtaining  the  package  for  Vin- 
ton,  returned  to  his  room  at  the  hotel.  Ex 
hausted  by  the  travel  and  anxiety  he  had  under 
gone  since  leaving  the  woods,  he  threw  himself 
upon  the  lounge,  hoping  to  get  some  sleep,  as 
his  train  for  Chicago  did  not  start  until  evening. 
Vinton's  package,  which  was  scarcely  larger  than 
a  card-case,  was  tied  with  a  small,  faded  ribbon. 
Ferris  had  put  it  in  the  inside  pocket  of  his  coat, 
and  when  he  threw  this  over  the  chair,  he  heard 
the  package  drop  on  the  floor.  He  rose  to  get 
it  and  found  that  the  ribbon  had  broken  and 
that  the  small  leather  case  had  fallen  open  upon 
the  floor.  As  he  stooped  to  pick  it  up  he  could 
not  fail  to  see  that  the  case  contained  two  minia 
tures  on  porcelain.  One  was  a  portrait  of  his 
father  and  the  other  a  perfect  picture  of  Madge. 
In  a  moment  it  came  back  to  him,  how  as  a  little 
child,  Vinton  had  often  shown  these  to  him, 
though  of  late  years  he  had  not  seen  them. 

Could  it  be  that  Herndon  was  right  and  that 
his  father  had  married  Margery  Thome  ? 
Goaded  almost  to  despair  by  this  thought  he 
restlessly  walked  the  floor  of  his  room,  till,  with 
a  sudden  determination  to  end  his  suspense,  he 
hastened  to  the  telegraph  office  and  sent  a  mes 
sage  to  John  Brent,  requesting  him  to  have 
Vinton  come  at  once  from  Round  Lake  camp  to 
Burton's  cabins. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

'T~~*HE  day  that  Ferris  left  camp  was  the  un- 
-L  happiest  Madge  had  ever  known.  After 
leaving  Burton  she  walked  back  over  the  trail 
for  some  distance,  but  as  she  neared  the  camp 
the  thought  of  being  with  others  seemed  unbear 
able,  and  she  turned  into  the  woods,  wandering 
aimlessly  on  and  on  until  the  deep  shadows 
warned  her  that  it  was  growing  late. 

"Coward,  coward,  that  I  am,"  she  said  half 
aloud,  as  she  turned  to  retrace  her  steps,  "  to 
whimper  and  pine  while  he  hopes  and  works. 
Oh,  Robert,  I  am  not  worthy  of  your  love.  For 
get  me  and  be  happy,  dear."  She  paused  as 
the  pain  of  the  thought  possessed  her.  In  help 
less  despair  she  looked  up  with  her  hands 
clasped  across  her  breast.  The  glorious  coloring 
of  the  September  sky,  the  touches  of  the  setting 
sun  upon  the  tops  of  the  taller  trees,  caused  her 
to  forget  the  gathering  gloom  about  her,  and 
from  the  depths  of  her  heart  she  prayed  for 
courage,  for  faith  and  strength.  A  prayer  so  fer 
vent  as  hers,  born  as  it  was  of  infinite  yearning 


212  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

for  faith  and  in  a  heart  normally  full  of  courage 
and  strength,  could  not  but  bring  its  own 
answer,  and  as  it  came  she  said  :  "  Robert,  I  will 
wait  and  hope  and  pray  and  love  you,  always  — 
yes,  and  I  will  work,  too,  and  perhaps  —  per 
haps —  "  but  so  fast  did  her  heart  beat  with  the 
new-born  hope  and  resolve,  that  words  failed 
her,  though  the  color  of  her  cheek  and  the  bright 
ness  of  her  eye  told  the  thought,  and  she  re 
turned  to  camp  as  joyous  as  she  had  left  it 
miserable.  To  one  of  her  temperament  the 
pendulum  of  emotion  swings  quickly  to  extremes. 
As  she  passed  on  to  the  trail  leading  to  camp 
she  met  a  woodsman  who  had  been  sent  in  with 
the  mail.  Taking  it  from  him  she  hurried  on. 
Dan'l  had  just  announced  dinner,  and  as  the 
party  took  their  seats  she  distributed  the  letters. 
Mrs.  Elting  had  expected  her  husband,  but  was 
consoled  in  a  measure  by  a  letter  that  told  her 
his  coming  would  be  delayed  only  a  few  days. 
For  Helen  and  Moulton  there  were  several  letters, 
and  for  Vinton  and  Whitney  an  accumulation  of 
daily  papers.  Moulton  glanced  hastily  at  his  letters 
and  cramming  them  into  the  pocket  of  his  coat, 
said  carelessly,  "  A  choice  assortment  of  bills  and 
club  notices."  Helen's  face  brightened  as  she 
read  the  cheerful  letter  from  her  mother,  and 
passed  it  to  Whitney.  But  the  color  came  to 
her  cheek  as  she  opened  the  next  letter,  the 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  213 

handwriting  of  which  she  recognized  as  Mr. 
Blake  Kennedy's.  Moulton,  from  his  seat  across 
the  table,  noticed  this,  and  as  he  could  not  fail 
to  see  the  masculine  handwriting,  it  made  him 
decidedly  uncomfortable.  Nor  were  his  sus 
picions  allayed  when  Helen,  in  answer  to  a 
question  from  Whitney,  said  with  some  embar 
rassment,  "  It  is  merely  a  note  from  Mr. 
Kennedy." 

"A  note,  indeed,"  thought  Moulton  —  "there 
are  at  least  a  dozen  pages." 

What  a  little  thing  may  impair  a  man's  appe 
tite  and  happiness  if  he  chance  to  be  in  love. 
Moulton,  usually  the  life  of  the  table,  with  an 
appetite  bordering  on  the  voracious,  was  now 
glum  and  abstracted,  although  he  made  spas 
modic  attempts  to  enter  into  the  general  conver 
sation. 

As  they  arose  from  the  table,  Helen  asked  if 
the  man  who  brought  the  mail  would  return  to 
the  town  in  the  morning.  Madge  found  him  in 
the  cook-tent  with  Dan'l  and  learned  that  he 
was  on  his  way  to  a  logging  camp  some  five 
miles  distant,  where  he  would  spend  the  next 
day,  and  return  to  the  town  on  the  day  after, 
stopping  on  his  way  for  the  mail.  As  Madge 
told  Helen  this,  she  added  playfully  in  a  half 
whisper:  "You  need  not  give  Mr.  Kennedy  his 
answer  to-night,  Helen."  Moulton  caught  the 


214  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

words,  and  his  feelings  were  expressed  by  the 
vicious  way  in  which  he  bit  off  the  end  of  his 
cigar,  as  he  sauntered  over  to  the  camp-fire, 
stood  with  his  back  toward  it  a  few  moments, 
and  then  walked  down  to  the  landing.  Mrs. 
Elting  and  Vinton  were  soon  absorbed  in  the 
papers,  and  Madge,  with  outspread  map  by  the 
light  of  the  camp-fire,  explained  to  Whitney  the 
location  of  a  marshy  lake  several  miles  away  on 
which  good  duck-shooting  might  be  had.  The 
river  ran  very  near  to  it,  and  she  suggested  that 
they  all  make  the  trip  on  the  morrow,  taking 
luncheon  with  them,  and  returning  for  a  late 
dinner.  Whitney  eagerly  assented  to  this, 
although  he  would  have  much  preferred  to  go 
with  Madge  alone,  for  the  others  knew  nothing  of 
duck-shooting ;  but,  as  Madge  was  sure  they 
would  enjoy  the  ride  on  the  river  and  a  picnic 
in  the  woods,  he  prevailed  upon  Mrs.  Elting, 
Helen  and  Vinton  to  go,  and  it  was  agreed  that 
they  should  breakfast  at  six. 

As  Moulton  came  up  from  the  landing,  he 
saw  Helen  writing  in  the  dining  tent.  Madge 
told  him  of  their  plan,  for  Whitney  had  already 
begun  to  make  his  preparations. 

"I  think,"  he  said,  "that  you  had  better  not 
count  me  in.  I  am  really  no  shot,  and  would 
only  be  in  the  way.  Besides,  I  am  not  feeling 
very  companionable  to-night  and  shall  probably 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  215 

feel  less  so  to-morrow.  No,  I  will  remain  here 
and  keep  camp  until  you  return/' 

"  Helen  is  going,  and  I  am  sure  she  would 
want  you  to  go,"  answered  Madge;  and  there 
was  an  earnestness  in  her  tone  that  caused 
Moulton  to  hesitate.  "  Now,  say  you  will  go," 
she  added,  as  Helen  came  toward  him. 

"Yes,  I  will,"  he  said,  as  he  tossed  the  end  of 
his  cigar  into  the  fire. 

It  was  arranged  that  Charley  should  take 
Mrs.  Elting  and  Vinton  in  the  largest  boat,  that 
Madge  and  Helen  should  take  one  of  the  canoes, 
and  Moulton  and  Whitney  the  other.  Charley, 
with  Dan'l  to  help  him,  was  sent  at  once  to  get 
the  boats  through  the  shallow  outlet  of  the  lake 
to  the  river,  in  readiness  for  the  early  morning 
start;  and  while  Helen  and  Madge  prepared  the 
luncheon  in  the  cook  tent,  Whitney  helped 
Moulton  to  clean  his  gun  and  get  ready  his  am 
munition. 

"  You  are  not  going  to  wear  those  clothes, 
Tom?"  said  Whitney,  as  he  noticed  Moulton 
laying  out  a  heavy  dark  blue  yachting  jacket 
and  trousers. 

"  Why  not  ?  They  are  the  warmest  I  have, 
and  the  thermometer  is  forty  now.  It  will  be 
thirty  by  morning.  Do  you  want  me  to  wear  a 
dress  suit  ?  " 

"  The  color  could    not  be  worse.     A  duck 


2l6  OUT    OF   THE    WOODS. 

would  see  you  ten  miles  off.  You  must  wear 
something  that  will  harmonize  with  the  browns 
and  grays  of  the  marsh.  These  wild-fowl  are 
great  sticklers  for  harmony  of  colors." 

•    "  It   strikes  me   that  for  a  novice  in    duck 
shooting  you  are  affecting  great  wisdom." 

"  I  am  simply  quoting  Miss  Seaton,  and 
surely  she  has  passed  her  novitiate." 

"  Does  this  brown  sweater  suit  you  better  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that  is  all  right,  and  your  brown  can 
vas  cap  will  be  much  more  suitable,  if  less  be 
coming,  than  the  Tarn  O'Shanter  you  have  on." 

"All  right.  Have  you  any  suggestions  as  to 
the  color  of  my  foot-wear  ?  Would  you  like  me 
to  wear  brown  shoes,  also  ?" 

"  That  would  not  be  a  bad  idea,  if  you  had 
them,  but  mackintosh  hip-boots  would  be  better, 
as  you  may  have  to  wade  after  dead  birds." 

"  Well,  I  have  n't  them.  I  will  risk  wading 
in  my  shoes  after  all  the  birds  I  kill." 

Having  made  all  arrangements  for  an  early 
start  in  the  morning,  Whitney  replenished  the 
wood  in  the  tent  stove,  and,  with  Moulton,  went 
out  to  the  camp-fire.  The  others  were  busy 
with  their  preparations,  and  joined  them  for  a  few 
minutes  only  before  saying  "good-night." 

Shortly  after  five  in  the  morning  Charley 
aroused  the  camp  with  the  noise  of  his  busy  axe, 
and  within  an  hour  all  were  on  the  trail  to  the 


OUT   OF   THE    WOODS.  217 

river.  There  had  been  a  heavy  frost  during  the 
night,  and  on  the  tall  grass  in  the  open  places  it 
glistened  in  the  light  as  the  sun  peered  above 
the  tops  of  the  pines.  The  ride  down  the  river 
in  the  crisp  autumn  air  was  exhilarating,  and 
Moulton  regained  much  of  his  wonted  good 
humor. 

For  most  of  the  way  the  river  was  narrow, 
and  in  places  the  overhanging  branches  of  the 
trees  upon  the  opposite  banks  touched  above  the 
stream.  The  growth  was  mainly  pine  and  hem 
lock  and  cedar,  with  occasional  stretches  of 
sumac  and  alder  bushes,  and  here  and  there 
maple  and  basswood  and  birch.  Such  glory  of 
autumn  coloring  Helen  had  never  seen,  or,  at 
least,  had  never  lived  in,  and  that  makes  all  the 
difference  in  the  world  ;  and  her  expressions  of 
delight  waked  the  echoes  of  the  forest  as  each 
turn  in  the  winding  stream  revealed  some  vista 
of  new  beauty.  A  ride  of  an  hour  brought 
them  to  the  point  of  the  river  nearest  to  the 
marsh.  Mrs.  Elting  and  Vinton  decided  to  go 
on  down  stream  to  the  lumber  camp  six  miles 
below,  where  they  were  sure  of  a  hearty  welcome 
and  a  noon  dinner,  warm  and  substantial  if  not 
luxurious. 

The  marsh  to  which  Madge  led  the  way  was 
a  mile  or  so  in  length,  and  many  years  before 
had  been  completely  under  water,  but  it  was 


2l8  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

now  only  a  long,  narrow  pond,  at  its  widest 
point  not  over  a  few  hundred  yards  across. 
About  the  center  of  this  and  at  its  narrowest 
part  a  colony  of  beavers  had  at  one  time  built  a 
dam,  the  remains  of  which  still  offered  firm  foot 
ing  from  the  edges  of  the  marsh.  As  they  came 
in  sight  of  the  marsh  Madge  disclosed  her  plan 
of  attack  upon  the  ducks.  It  was  that  Whitney 
should  occupy  a  position  on  the  beaver  dam  on 
one  side  of  the  lake,  and  Helen  and  Moulton 
should  take  a  like  position  on  the  opposite  side, 
while  she  would  push  through  the  pond,  in  a 
dug-out  that  Charley  had  told  her  was  cached 
and  in  good  condition.  She  had  brought  her 
paddle  from  the  river,  and  finding  the  boat, 
managed,  with  Whitney's  assistance,  to  get  it 
into  the  water.  While  doing  this  there  was  a 
whirr  of  wings  overhead,  and  a  bunch  of  mal 
lards  dropped  into  the  pond  scarcely  out  of 
range.  This  gave  promise  of  good  sport,  and 
as  the  others  hastened  to  their  posts  Madge  cut 
an  armful  of  hemlock  boughs  on  which  to  kneel 
in  the  boat.  After  waiting  until  she  felt  sure 
that  Helen  and  Moulton  had  reached  the  dam, 
she  pushed  off.  She  had  gone  scarcely  fifty 
yards  when  an  old  drake  rose  from  the  rushes 
with  a  warning  "  quack-quack,"  and  swung  in 
low  flight  over  the  point  where  Helen  and 
Moulton  were  concealed.  Madge  was  at  a  loss 


OUT   OF   THE    WOODS.  2l9 

to  account  for  Moulton's  not  firing,  as  the  shot 
seemed  to  her  an  easy  one,  and  she  thought  that 
possibly  she  had  not  allowed  him  time  to  reach 
his  position;  but  standing  in  the  canoe,  she  could 
see  him  on  the  dam  with  his  back  toward  her, 
looking  after  the  drake  as  he  joined  a  flock  at 
the  opposite  end  of  the  pond. 

"  Evidently  the  first  bird  was  too  much  of  a 
surprise,"  thought  Madge,  as  she  pushed  toward 
the  point  of  the  marsh  where  the  flock  had 
disappeared.  So  quietly  did  her  boat  move 
that  she  was  scarcely  twenty  yards  distant 
when,  with  a  terrific  splashing  and  quack 
ing,  the  flock  took  wing.  She  had  not  in 
tended  to  shoot,  but  the  impulse  was  irre 
sistible.  Instantly  her  paddle  dropped,  and, 
seizing  her  gun,  she  brought  down  two  birds  and 
winged  a  third.  The  woods  rang  with  a  hun 
dred  echoes,  and  from  different  points  of  the 
marsh  a  dozen  flocks  arose.  As  she  slipped  in 
new  shells  she  heard  Moulton's  gun  twice  in 
rapid  succession,  but  she  could  see  that  each 
time  he  had  shot  behind.  Then  came  two  quick 
shots  from  Whitney,  and  three  birds  from  a  pass 
ing  flock  were  added  to  their  bag.  Again  Moul- 
ton  fired,  and  by  great  good  luck  dropped  two, 
and  as  they  fell  his  yell  of  triumph  woke  the 
echoes  of  the  woods.  The  same  flock  passed 


22O  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

over  Madge,  and  left  one  of  its  number  as  the 
result  of  a  very  long  shot. 

As  she  pushed  ahead  looking  for  her  crippled 
bird,  she  heard  a  cry  for  help,  and  hurrying  on, 
found  Moulton  nearly  waist-deep  in  mud  into 
which  he  had  plunged  in  his  eagerness  to  retrieve 
his  birds,  while  Helen,  already  over  her  shoe- 
tops,  was  trying  vainly  to  reach  him  with  the 
dead  branch  of  a  tree.  On  the  point  opposite, 
Whitney  was  swaying  to  and  fro  in  paroxysms 
of  laughter  in  which  Madge  would  have  been 
tempted  to  join  had  not  the  tears  in  Helen's 
eyes  showed  how  seriously  she  viewed  the  situa 
tion.  By  resting  his  weight  upon  the  bow  of 
the  canoe,  while  Madge  in  the  stern  held  it  with 
her  paddle  as  steady  as  possible,  Moulton  suc 
ceeded  after  much  difficulty  in  extricating  him 
self  and  reaching  the  hard  ground  of  the  dam. 

"  I  really  think  that  you  should  have  a  con 
servator  appointed  for  me,  Miss  Seaton,"  he  said, 
looking  disgustedly  at  the  slime  trickling  from 
his  overalls  and  oozing  from  his  shoe-tops. 

"  You  shouldn't  mind  a  little  thing  like  this," 
she  answered  cheerily.  "  It  is  one  of  the  in 
cidents  of  duck-shooting.  I  have  been  in  much 
sorrier  plight.  We  will  build  a  fire  in  the  woods 
and  you  can  dry  off  in  a  little  while.  Let  us  go 
at  once,  and  by  lunch  time  you  will  be  all  right 
again." 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  221 

As  they  started  for  the  woods  Whitney  called 
out  to  Moulton  to  come  over  and  retrieve  his 
birds. 

"  Listen  to  that  heartless  brute,"  said  Helen, 
thoroughly  indignant  at  her  brother's  merriment. 
"  I  am  ashamed  of  him." 

"  Let  Merrick  have  his  laugh,"  said  Moulton, 
beginning  to  realize  the  absurdity  of  what  he 
had  done.  "  Perhaps  we  can  devise  some  method 
of  revenge  before  the  day  is  over." 

While  Moulton  was  building  the  fire  Madge 
went  after  the  hamper  of  luncheon  ;  on  her  re 
turn  she  found  Helen  with  her  feet  wrapped 
snugly  in  Moulton's  top  coat,  her  shoes  and 
stockings  drying  before  the  fire,  over  which 
Moulton  hovered. 

"  This  is  a  modified  Turko-Russian  bath,  Miss 
Seaton,"  he  said,  as  Madge  joined  them.  "  From 
my  head  to  my  waist  it  is  hot  air  and  from  that 
down  it  is  steam.  Have  you  any  directions  to 
give  about  luncheon?" 

"  Helen  will  superintend  that ;  but  I  warn 
you  that  Mr.  Whitney  and  I  shall  bring  very 
large  appetites  about  one  o'clock,"  Madge  said; 
yet  as  she  walked  back  to  the  marsh  she  ques 
tioned  whether  either  Moulton  or  Helen  would 
remember  the  luncheon  at  all. 

The  point  that  Madge  had  selected  as  their 
rendezvous  was  a  little  way  back  from  the  edge 


222  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

of  the  marsh  and  on  the  high  ground  that  had 
originally  been  the  bank  of  the  lake.  The  fallen 
trunk  of  a  great  hemlock  against  which  Moulton 
had  placed  an  armful  of  boughs,  made  a  com 
fortable  back  rest  and  wind-break  for  Helen,  and 
she  watched  him  with  some  amusement  as  he 
moved  around  the  fire  in  his  effort  to  dry  his 
nether  garments  uniformly. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  have  spoiled  the  morning 
for  you,"  Moulton  said,  as  they  heard  four  shots 
from  the  marsh  in  rapid  succession.  "  Would 
you  not  like  to  go  to  the  dam  again  and  watch 
them  shoot?" 

"  No,  I  am  very  comfortable  here,  or  should 
be  if  I  were  quite  sure  that  you  would  not  catch 
cold  from  your  wetting." 

"  You  need  have  no  fear  for  me.  I  never 
take  cold,  and  now  I  am  simply  toasted.  Your 
shoes  and  stockings  are  dry.  You  might  put 
them  on  while  I  get  more  wood  for  the  fire." 

When  he  returned  a  few  minutes  later,  he 
found  that  Helen  had  moved  the  boughs  nearer 
the  fire  and  had  spread  his  top  coat  upon 
them. 

"  I  know  you  must  be  tired  of  standing  and  I 
have  made  a  place  for  you  to  lie  near  the  fire. 
You  will  find  it  very  comfortable,  and  if  you 
wish  to  take  a  nap  I  will  promise  not  to  disturb 
you  with  my  chatter.  I  have  a  tablet  and  pencil 


OUT    OF   THE    WOODS.  223 

in  my  pocket  and  can  write  a  letter  while  you 
sleep." 

"  This  is  very  good  of  you,"  Moulton  said,  as 
he  stretched  himself  before  the  fire  near  her,  and 
then  added:  "  I  thought  you  answered  your  let 
ter  last  night?" 

"  I  answered  one  last  night;  you  know  I  re 
ceived  two." 

"You  answered  Kennedy's  last  night?" 

"  Yes." 

"  And  you  wish  to  write  to  your  mother  now 
and  tell  her  of  your  engagement." 

"  Can  you  imagine  anything  more  proper 
and  filial?" 

Moulton  rose  restlessly  after  a  moment's 
silence,  and  stood  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  in 
the  embers  of  which  Helen  was  poking  with  a 
stick. 

"And  this  is  the  end  of  our  long  friendship," 
he  said,  with  a  solemnity  of  tone  altogether  un 
usual  for  him,  as  he  turned  toward  her.  "  We 
have  known  each  other  since  childhood.  I  re 
member  how,  as  a  great  overgrown  boy,  I 
thought  it  my  special  province  to  look  after  you, 
for  you  were  such  a  little  wisp  of  a  girl  in  those 
days.  Have  you  forgotten  when  your  father 
told  us  of  his  election  as  president  of  his  railroad 
and  that  you  would  move  to  Chicago,  and  how 
we  cried  together  as  we  said  '  good-bye '  in  the 


224  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

little  park  beyond  the  old  school-house?  I 
promised  that  when  I  grew  to  be  a  man,  I  would 
.go  west  to  live  and  be  near  you  again,  and  we 
would  have  such  good  times  together.  Your 
eyes  brightened  as  you  listened  to  all  I  said  I 
would  be  for  you  and  do  for  you,  and  you 
laughed  through  your  tears.  That  was  fifteen 
years  ago.  Since  then  I  have  seen  much  of  the 
world.  I  have  had  many  friends,  and  the  best 
of  them  have  been  women,  but  none  have  ever 
taken  the  place  of  the  little  girl  who  left  me  that 
day  with  a  smile  on  her  lips  while  I  ran  over  to 
the  barn  and  cried  myself  to  sleep  in  the  hay.  I 
thought  I  loved  you  then,  but  when  we  met 
again  years  after,  the  little  girl  I  had  known  and 
dreamed  of  was  gone  and  in  her  place  I  found  a 
woman  crowned  with  accomplishments  and 
hedged  about  with  conventionalities." 
"  Yet  we  were  good  friends  after  that  ?  " 
"Yes,  but  your  long  absence  abroad  and  the 
many  demands  of  society  upon  your  time  when 
at  home  left  me  little  chance  to  renew  the  old 
intimacy,  even  had  you  wished  it,  and  in  time  I 
came  to  believe  that  you  had  cared  for  me 
simply  in  a  childlike  way,  and  to  think  of  the 
old  Leamington  days  only  as  a  beautiful  mem 
ory.  When  I  saw  you  at  the  concert  the  night 
before  we  left  Chicago,  I  seemed  to  see  in  your 
face  the  same  expression  I  had  cherished  for 


OUT   OF   THE    WOODS.  225 

years,  and  when  you  asked  me  to  join  your  party 
my  heart  beat  fast  with  the  hope  that  here  in 
these  woods,  away  from  the  world,  we  might  be 
happy  as  we  were  then." 

"And  have  you  been  disappointed  ?" 
"  Indeed,  no.  I  have  compassed  a  life-time 
of  happiness  in  these  last  two  weeks.  You  have 
seemed  like  the  little  girl  I  loved,  only  infinitely 
dearer  to  me,  Helen,  and  I  have  dreamed  and 
hoped  and  drifted,  never  thinking  that  your 
heart  might  have  been  already  given  to  another. 
Last  evening,  when  you  read  the  letter  from  Mr. 
Kennedy,  I  remembered  that  you  and  he  had 
spent  the  summer  together;  and  as  I  saw  the 
smile  that  lighted  your  face  as  you  finished  read 
ing,  my  heart  sank  within  me  and  I  realized  that 
your  love  was  not  for  me.  I  stood  by  the  lake 
for  an  hour  and  tried  to  convince  myself  that 
perhaps  I  was  mistaken,  but  when  I  returned  to 
the  camp  and  found  that  you  had  written,  I 
knew  that  my  dream  was  over.  Do  not  think 
me  weak  to  tell  you  of  this  now.  I  want  you  to 
know  that  I  love  you,  Helen  ;  that  I  have  loved 
you  always,  although  I  have  not  realized  it.  I 
know  you  are  fond  of  me  in  a  way,  regarding 
me,  I  think,  as  a  good-natured  fellow,  light- 
hearted  and  companionable  and  worthy  withal  of 
your  friendship.  But,  Helen,  believe  me,  I  could 
not  be  near  you  and  live  without  your  love.  I 


226  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

should  not  have  talked  to  you  as  I  have,  perhaps. 
It  can  only  make  you  unhappy." 

"  But  it  doesn't.  Sit  down  beside  me  and  I 
will  tell  you  why." 

As  Moulton  half  sat,  half  knelt,  at  her  side, 
he  saw  the  look  of  perfect  happiness  in  her  face 
and  his  heart  beat  fast  with  a  sudden  hope. 

"  It  is  because  I  love  you." 

For  a  moment  Moulton  seemed  dazed,  then 
laying  his  great  hand  upon  hers  and  looking  her 
full  in  the  face  he  asked  : 

"Helen,  is  this  true  ?" 

"  Yes,  Tom,  it  is  true.  Womanish  modesty 
should  prompt  me  to  say  that  I  never  realized  it 
until  now,but  honesty  compels  me  to  admit  that  I 
have  loved  you  ever  since  I  can  remember.  I  loved 
you  as  a  child,  although  I  did  not  recognize  the 
feeling  as  such.  You  were  my  ideal  boy,  and  as 
you  grew  to  manhood,  my  ideal  man.  How  my 
heart  thrilled  when  Merrick  used  to  come  home 
at  vacation  and  tell  me  of  your  college  life.  Your 
victories  in  the  ball  games  and  boating  were 
mine,  and  I  am  sure  your  occasional  failures  in 
your  studies,  lazy  boy,  distressed  me  more  than 
they  did  you.  But  what  it  all  meant  came  to 
me,  Tom,  the  day  of  the  great  boat  race.  I  am 
sure  the  color  in  my  cheeks  matched  the  crim 
son  I  wore  for  you,  when  I  saw  you  as  stroke  oar 
get  into  your  boat  and  heard  them  say  that  Tom 


OUT   OF    THE    WOODS.  227 

Moulton  would  die  before  he  would  lose  the 
race.  I  waved  my  hand  to  you  as  you  pulled  to 
the  stake  boat,  and  my  heart  beat  fast  when  you 
lifted  your  cap  to  me  in  passing.  But,  oh  !  the 
half  hour  of  suspense  after  the  start  when,  with 
Yale  a  half  length  ahead,  I  heard  your  '  steady, 
men,  steady '  drowned  by  the  shouts  of  the 
crowd  about  me.  Then,  as  the  boats  came  in 
sight  again,  with  you  still  behind,  I  heard  a  mis 
erable  little  fellow  say,  '  Moulton  has  flunked,' 
and  I  could  have  killed  him.  But  you  were  sav 
ing  yourself  for  the  finish — " 

"And  for  you,  Helen." 

"Yes,  and  when  you  swept  toward  the  stake 
boat  I  could  see  the  great  muscles  of  your  arms 
drive  your  boat  through  the  water,  gaining  at 
each  stroke,  until  Yale  was  left  two  lengths  be 
hind  as  you  crossed  the  line  and  sank  forward 
over  your  oar,  unconscious.  My  fainting  was 
scarcely  noticed  in  the  tumult  about  us,  but 
when  I  regained  consciousness  I  knew  what  it 
all  meant,  Tom;  and  since  then  I  have  never 
questioned  my  heart." 

An  hour  later,  when  Madge  and  Whitney 
came  for  luncheon,  carrying  their  birds  between 
them,  they  found  Helen  and  Moulton  absorbed 
in  their  happiness  and  unmindful  of  the  fact 
that  the  fire  had  gone  out  and  that  the  promised 
luncheon  was  unprepared. 


228  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

In  the  radiance  of  Helen's  face  Madge  read 
the  happiness  that  had  come  to  her,  and  leaning 
over  she  kissed  her  on  the  forehead,  whispering 
softly,  "I  am  so  glad,  dearest."  But  no  such 
tender  thought  possessed  the  hungry  Whit 
ney,  who  looked  at  them  with  well  affected 
severity  and  said: 

"Well,  you  are  an  energetic  couple.  Get 
up,  you  lazy  fellow,  and  help  me  build  the  fire. 
Helen,  your  indolence  is  a  positive  disgrace  to 
the  family." 

Moulton  rose  lazily  and  went  with  Whitney 
after  the  wood. 

"  Merrick,"  he  said,  as  they  passed  beyond 
the  hearing  of  the  others,  "  how  would  you  re 
gard  me  as  a  prospective  brother-in-law?  " 

"That  would  depend  largely  upon  whose 
brother-in-law  you  proposed  to  be.  Think  of 
a  man  of  your  confirmed  habits  offering  him 
self  to  an  innocent  young  woman.  You 
drink!" 

"That  depends  on  what  you  offer." 

"  And  you  smoke  !  " 

"I  draw  the  line,  though,  at  your  cigars." 

"  And  you  swear  !  " 

"  I  will  show  you  in  a  minute  if  you  don't 
stop  your  nonsense.  I  have  proposed  to  Helen, 
and  she  has  accepted  me.  Do  you  catch  the 
idea  now?" 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  22Q 

"  Yes,  I  think  so.  And  having  committed 
the  irretrievable  folly  you  ask  my  forgiveness. 
Suppose  I  refuse  it?" 

"Do  you  want  to,  Merrick?"  There  was  a 
touch  of  almost  childish  frankness  and  tender 
ness  in  the  tone  as  he  spoke,  that  was  irresist 
ible,  and  Whitney's  voice  trembled  slightly  as 
he  answered  : 

"  It  is  all  right,  Tom,"  and  then  after  a  mo 
ment's  pause,  he  added  :  "  But  don't  let  it  inter 
fere  with  luncheon  again." 

The  most  expert  chef  with  unlimited  viands 
at  his  command  could  not  have  prepared  a 
meal  more  delightful  to  these  happy,  hungry 
four  young  people,  than  was  afforded  by  the 
simple  contents  of  their  hamper.  The  afternoon 
was  far  gone  when  Whitney  suggested  that  they 
spend  an  hour  on  the  marsh  before  starting  for 
camp.  Scarcely  had  they  reached  their  posi 
tions  when  a  pair  of  mallards  were  brought 
down  by  Whitney,  and  eight  more  were  added 
to  their  bag  before  a  shot  from  Vinton's  gun 
gave  the  signal  that  he  and  Mrs.  Elting  were 
awaiting  them  at  the  river. 

The  ride  up  the  river  to  the  trail  that  led  to 
camp  meant  an  hour's  hard  paddling,  and  Madge 
was  not  a  little  fatigued  when  they  reached 
camp  and  found  dinner  awaiting  them.  Per 
haps  it  was  the  reaction  from  the  excitement  of 


230  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

the  day  or  the  contrast  of  her  own  unfortunate 
condition  with  the  happiness  of  her  friend,  or 
both,  that  brought  to  her  a  sense  of  deepest 
melancholy.  Charley  had  built  an  unusually 
large  camp-fire  and  brought  hemlock  boughs, 
which  at  intervals  he  piled  on,  their  resinous 
needles  crackling  as  they  sent  myriads  of  stars 
into  the  leaves  above.  Presently  he  disappeared, 
and  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  lake  a  pillar 
of  flame  rose  high  above  the  surrounding  trees 
and  lighted  the  water  and  the  shores.  He  had 
fired  an  old  birch  tree,  the  ragged  bark  of  which 
burned  from  root  to  top  with  a  glorious  bril 
liancy.  But  neither  these  things  nor  Moulton's 
joyous  voice  in  the  songs  Madge  loved  the  best 
could  dispel  her  gloom,  and  she  was  glad  when 
she  could  go  to  her  tent  and  be  undisguisedly 
miserable. 

It  was  fortunate  for  her  that  Burton  came  on 
the  morrow,  and  more  fortunate  that  he  could 
tell  her,  as  he  had  convinced  himself  he  truth 
fully  might,  that  he  believed  there  was  a  chance 
of  Ferris  succeeding,  though  how  small  he 
thought  that  chance  he  had  not  the  heart 
to  say.  They  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  day 
together,  and  when  he  told  her  of  his  plan  to 
join  Ferris  in  the  search,  she  felt  almost  as  if 
success  were  assured,  so  great  was  her  confidence 
in  his  ability  to  accomplish  whatever  he  under- 


OUT    OF   THE    WOODS.  23! 

took  in  earnest.  And  so  the  pendulum  of  emo 
tion  swung  to  its  highest  point,  nor  did  it  de 
scend  until  a  week  later,  when  the  Indian,  Joe, 
appeared  with  a  note  saying  that  Ferris  would 
be  unable  to  come  to  the  camp  and  requesting 
Vinton  to  meet  him  on  the  following  day  at 
Burton's  cabins. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

WHEN  Ferris  arrived  at  Keating  on  the 
morning  of  the  second  day  after  leav 
ing  New  York,  he  stopped  at  the  mine  only 
long  enough  to  get  a  horse  to  take  him  to  Bur 
ton's  cabins.  It  was  but  little  after  noon  when 
he  crossed  the  river.  The  clatter  of  his  horse's 
hoofs  on  the  bridge  brought  a  loud  "halloa" 
from  Burton  and  Vinton,  who  were  awaiting 
him.  The  latter  had  come  from  the  camp  only 
half  an  hour  before  and  had  spent  the  time  in 
looking  over  the  place.  He  and  Burton  had 
conceived  a  remarkable  liking  for  each  other  in 
their  brief  acquaintance,  which  gave  promise  of 
ripening  into  a  close  and  lasting  friendship. 

As  Ferris  joined  them,  his  face  plainly  showed 
the  fatigue  and  anxiety  through  which  he  had 
passed  during  his  absence.  Burton  understood 
the  cause  of  this,  but  Vinton  was  much  alarmed 
by  it  and  quickly  surmised  that  some  sudden 
and  serious  malady  had  seized  him. 

"  Pray  do  not  worry  about  my  health,  Uncle 
Phil,"  he   said,    in    hope   of  allaying   Vinton's 
fears  for  his  health.     "  Physically  I  am  all  right, 
232 


OUT    OF   THE    WOODS.  233 

although  somewhat  travel-worn.  I  have  sent 
for  you  to  talk  over  a  matter  that  concerns  me 
deeply,  but  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  my  health. 
I  will  tell  you  all  after  luncheon." 

As  soon  as  the  meal  was  concluded,  Burton  ex 
cused  himself  on  the  plea  of  going  to  catch  a 
mess  of  bass  for  supper  in  a  lake  some  two  miles 
distant,  and  left  his  guests  alone  together. 

As  they  entered  the  living  room  of  the 
cabin,  Ferris  took  from  his  pocket  the  package 
he  had  brought  for  Vinton. 

"  I  must  tell  you,  Uncle  Phil,"  he  said  as  he 
drew  an  easy  chair  for  Vinton  before  the  open 
fire,  "  that  by  accident  I  saw  the  miniatures,  and 
it  was  to  speak  of  these  that  I  have  asked  you  to 
come  here." 

Instantly  the  color  came  to  Vinton's  face,  and 
he  sat  erect. 

"  You  mean  that  you  wish  to  speak  to  me  of 
your  father,  Robert?  " 

"  Yes,  and  of  the  other." 

A  frown  passed  over  Vinton's  features  but 
disappeared  as  quickly,  leaving  only  a  look  of 
deepest  sadness,  as  he  said: 

"  What  do  you  know  of  her?" 

"  But  little.  It  is  from  you  that  I  hope  to 
learn  more." 

"  Why  should  this  interest  you?  " 

"  You  will  understand  when  you  have  heard 


234  OUT   OF   THE    WOODS. 

what  I  have  to  say.  Since  I  left  you  I  have  been 
in  Washington.  I  went  there  to  learn  of  her 
whose  portrait  you  have.  I  had  heard  that  she 
claimed,  shortly  before  her  death,  which  occurred 
many  years  ago,  to  have  married  an  American 
naval  officer,  and  I  promised  to  discover,  if  pos 
sible,  if  this  was  true." 

"  Was  it  on  my  account  that  you  undertook 
this  detective  service?"  Vinton  asked.  But 
Ferris  did  not  notice  the  sarcasm  in  his  tone. 

"  I  was  not  aware  until  after  I  went  East  that 
she  had  ever  known  you.  My  information  was 
very  meagre,  although  from  it  I  was  able  to 
gather  that  if  she  was  married  at  all,  it  was  in  all 
probability  to  an  officer  stationed  at  Lisbon  in 
the  summer  of  1861.  By  merest  chance  I  met 
Commodore  Herndon  at  the  hotel  soon  after 
my  arrival.  I  told  him  of  the  object  of  my  visit, 
and  from  him  I  learned  for  the  first  time  of  the  re 
lations  that  had  existed  between  you  and  Margery 
Thorne." 

At  the  mention  of  that  name  Vinton  rose 
nervously  from  his  chair,  and  walking  across  the 
room,  looked  out  of  the  window. 

"  Go  on,"  he  said,  almost  fiercely,  as  Ferris 
paused  a  moment. 

"  I  learned  also,  that  my  father  had  known 
her  well  and  that  it  was  common  rumor  at  the 
time  the  '  Macedonian '  sailed  for  home,  that 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  235 

they  were  engaged  to  be  married.  In  the  spring 
following,  a  child  was  born  to  Margery  Thome." 

Vinton  turned  suddenly  and  walked  towards 
Ferris,  his  face  now  deadly  pale. 

"  Herndon  believes  that  child  was  my  father's. 
Do  you  think  it  true?  " 

"I  know  it  to  be  a  lie,  and  I  could  kill  the  man 
that  uttered  it."  He  grasped  the -mantel  shelf 
for  support,  as  he  spoke;  so  intense  was  his  agi 
tation,  that  for  a  moment  it  seemed  that  his 
strength  would  fail  him. 

"  Thank  God  for  those  words.  I  believed  it 
false  until  the  proof  seemed  conclusive."  And 
rising  from  his  chair  Ferris  grasped  Vinton's 
hand  and  held  it  fast.  "  You  were  my  father's 
friend  and  have  taught  me  to  revere  his  memory. 
You  have  stood  ever  as  a  father  to  me,  yet  my 
gratitude  for  all  else  you  have  done  for  me,  for 
all  you  have  been  to  me,  cannot  equal  that  which 
I  feel  now.  I  should  have  known  that  he  was 
not  the  dastard  to  win  a  woman  and  then  desert 
her." 

Vinton  winced  as  Ferris  spoke,  and  sinking 
into  a  chair,  covered  his  face  with  his  hands  and 
for  a  moment  was  silent.  His  whole  frame 
trembled  with  suppressed  emotion,  and  Ferris, 
attributing  it  to  the  sad  memories  he  had  awak 
ened,  said  gently: 

"I  am  very  sorry,  Uncle  Phil,  that  I  have  dis- 


236  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

tressed  you  so.  When  you  know  what  it  means  for 
me,  you  will  pardon  me,  I  am  sure." 

"  My  God,  my  God,  have  I  not  suffered 
enough?" 

Again  there  was  a  silence,  broken  by  Vinton's 
asking: 

"  Did  Herndon  tell  of  the  birth  of  this  child?" 

"No,  I  knew  of  that  before  I  saw  him." 

"Who  told  you?" 

"  I  have  seen  her." 

Instantly  Vinton  was  on  his  feet  and  all  ex 
citement. 

"You  have  seen  her,  Robert?  When? 
Where?  Is  she  alive?  " 

"Yes,  she  is  alive.  But  when  and  where  I 
have  seen  her  I  must  not  say." 

"Oh!  Robert,  as  you  care  for  me,  I  beg  you 
tell  me  where  I  may  find  her." 

There  were  tears  in  Vinton's  eyes  as  he  spoke, 
and  Ferris  faltered  as  he  answered: 

"I  cannot — at  least  not  now." 

"  Be  kind  to  me,  pity  me,  I  beseech  you. 
Why  not  now?  " 

"  Because  I  love  her,  and  until  I  have  dis 
covered  who  her  father  was,  I  cannot  tell  you 
more." 

"  Then  tell  me  now,  for  believe  me,  I  am  the 
child's  father." 

"You  ?     Oh!  my  God,  can  it  be  true  ?"  and 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  237 

Ferris  turned  his  back  on  Vinton  and  leaning 
upon  the  mantel,  bowed  his  head  in  the  agony 
of  despair. 

"Will  you  tell  me  now  ?"  Vinton  asked. 

Ferris  turned  upon  him,  now  with  hatred  in 
every  feature  and  word  as  he  spoke. 

"No.  I  love  her  with  my  whole  soul.  I 
promised  her  that  I  would  prove  that  she  was  a 
legitimate  child,  if  the  search  took  a  life-time. 
You  have  blasted  my  life.  For  God's  sake, 
never  let  me  see  you  again." 

As  he  spoke,  he  turned  to  the  table  for  his 
hat,  but  Vinton  stood  between  him  and  the  door. 

"  Stay,  Robert,"  he  said.  "  I  was  married  to 
Margery  Thorne." 

"  Is  it  true  ?  Can  you  prove  it  ? "  But 
as  he  looked  into  Vinton's  face,  he  added :  "  No, 
no,  I  do  not  mean  that,  only  tell  me  again  that 
it  is  true." 

"As  God  is  my  witness,  I  swear  it  is  true. 
Here  is  the  proof,  Robert."  And  taking  the 
leather  case  from  his  pocket,  he  drew  from  be 
hind  the  portrait  of  Margery  Thorne,  a  folded 
sheet  of  paper,  faded  with  age,  and  handed  it  to 
Ferris. 

"  Can  you  read  it  ?  " 

"Yes;  it  is  the  certificate  of  your  marriage." 

"And  the  witnesses  —  can  you  read  their 
names  ?" 


238  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"Yes;  one  is  my  father  and  the  other,  Dan'l 
Rafferty.  Why,  that  is  our  Dan'l  ?  " 

"Yes.  Dan'l  remembers  it  well.  The  chaplain 
afterwards  became  a  Jesuit  priest  and  is  now  in 
the  college  of  Notre  Dame." 

Ferris  took  from  his  pocket  the  photograph 
of  Madge  that  Burton  had  given  him  and  as  he 
handed  it  to  Vinton  said  : 

"  Compare  this  with  your  miniature,  Uncle 
Phil,  and  tell  me  if  you  discover  a  resemblance." 

"This  is  Madge.  Yes,  she  is  the  image  of 
Margery.  That  is  why  I  asked  you  to  bring  me 
the  miniature.  It  is  startling,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"Not  when  you  consider  that  they  were 
mother  and  daughter." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Robert  ?  " 

"  That  Margery  Seaton  is  your  child." 

For  a  moment  Vinton  stood  as  one  in  a 
trance,  with  the  pictures  before  him.  Then  he 
broke  down  utterly  and  Ferris  went  out,  closing 
the  door  softly  behind  him. 

Outside  the  cabin  he  met  Burton,  who  had 
returned  for  his  shotgun,  having  run  across  a 
covey  of  partridges  on  his  way  to  the  lake. 
Noticing  the  color  in  his  cheeks  and  the  bright 
ness  of  his  eyes,  he  said  anxiously : 

"I  am  afraid,  Robert,  that  you  have  been  over 
taxing  your  strength.  You  really  should  lie  down 
and  let  me  give  you  something  to  quiet  you." 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  239 

"You  need  not  give  my  health  another 
thought,"  Ferris  answered,  with  a  tone  of  exulta 
tion  in  his  voice.  "  I  am  tired  I  confess,  but  the 
cause  has  gone,  thank  God.  Success  is  a  better 
medicine  than  any  in  your  pharmacy." 

Burton  looked  at  him  a  moment,  as  if  to 
determine  if  already  his  mind  had  not  begun  to 
show  the  effects  of  the  strain  under  which  he 
had  labored  ;  but  Ferris  steadily  returned  the 
look,  his  face  aglow  with  happiness. 

"  What  does  this  mean,  Robert  ?  " 

"  It  means,  dear  friend,  that  all  you  have 
wished  for  me  has  been  realized  —  and  more. 
Come  with  me  and  I  will  tell  you." 

They  walked  by  a  well-worn  path  to  a  spring 
near  the  river,  where,  seating  themselves  on  an 
upturned  canoe,  Ferris  gave  Burton  an  outline 
of  his  eastern  trip  and  of  his  interview  with 
Vinton. 

As  they  rose  to  return  to  the  cabin  Burton 
took  Ferris's  arm  in  his. 

"  I  think,  Robert,"  he  said,  "  that  you  know 
how  dearly  I  love  Madge,  how  intimate  a  part  of 
my  life  she  has  become.  I  have  felt  that  some 
time  she  would  marry,  and  so  in  a  way  go  out  of 
my  daily  life.  I  had  not  thought  that  there 
would  ever  be  another  to  take  my  place,  but  her 
happiness  and  my  loss  have  come  more  gently  to 
me  than  I  could  have  conceived  possible.  When 


24O  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

I  first  met  Vinton,  I  was  strongly  attracted  to 
him.  Indeed,  I  think  that  no  other  man  has 
ever  won  my  affection  in  quite  the  way  he  has. 
There  is  much  in  heredity,  and  doubtless  I  have 
found  in  him  many  of  the  traits  that  have  en 
deared  her  to  me.  I  do  not  feel  that  I  shall 
lose  her;  I  hope  I  may  not." 

There  was  a  touch  of  pathos  in  his  voice  as  he 
finished,  which  impelled  Ferris  to  say  quickly  : 

"You  need  not  fear,  her  love  is  great  enough 
for  us  all.  It  will  bring  us  nearer  together." 

As  they  approached  the  cabin,  Vinton  saw 
them  from  the  window,  and  came  to  the  door. 
He  had  regained  his  composure  and  his  face  was 
radiant  with  happiness. 

"  My  friend,"  he  said,  taking  both  of  Burton's 
hands  in  his,  "  can  I  ever  pay  the  debt  of  grati 
tude  I  owe  you?" 

"  Pray,  do  not  think  of  that  again.  I  have 
had  my  reward  already,  and  there  will  still 
be  a  place  in  her  heart  for  me,  I  am  sure." 

"Yes,  and  in  mine  always." 

"In  the  fall  of  1860,"  Vinton  continued, 
after  they  had  entered  the  cabin,  "I  was  junior 
lieutenant.  I  had  just  finished  a  three  years' 
cruise  on  the  South  Atlantic  Squadron  and  was 
assigned  to  the  'Macedonian,'  which  was  ordered 
to  join  the  Mediterranean  Squadron.  She  was  a 
dilapidated  old  ship,  and  when  we  put  in  at  Lis- 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  24! 

bon  it  was  found  necessary  to  make  extensive  re 
pairs,  so  that  the  winter  was  over  before  they 
were  completed.  Soon  after  our  arrival  there  I 
met  Madge's  mother,  and  loved  her  from  the 
first.  Her  father,  Edwin  Thorne,  was  an  Eng 
lishman  who  had  been  in  the  British  Navy  at  one 
time  and  afterwards  in  the  diplomatic  service, 
from  which  he  was  retired.  Late  in  life  he  mar 
ried,  against  her  parent's  wishes,  a  Spanish  girl 
much  younger  than  himself,  who  lived  but  a 
few  years  thereafter,  and  Margery  was  the  child 
of  his  old  age.  For  some  reason  he  had 
conceived  a  strong  dislike  for  Americans  in 
general,  and  for  our  naval  officers  in  particular; 
and  this  feeling  was  intensified  as  the  threaten- 
ings  of  our  Civil  War  grew  more  distinct  and 
the  sympathy  of  England  with  the  South  became 
manifest.  Early  in  the  winter  I  asked  Margery 
to  be  my  wife.  She  loved  me,  but  realized  the 
hopelessness  of  gaining  her  father's  consent  to 
our  marriage.  By  chance  he  discovered  our  love, 
and  refused  to  allow  me  to  visit  his  house.  The 
only  one  of  our  officers  whom  he  seemed  to  re 
gard  with  any  degre  of  favor  was  Edward  Ferris, 
my  dearest  friend,  and  through  his  connivance 
we  contrived  occasionally  to  meet. 

"Then  came  the  news  that  war  had  been  de 
clared  and  that  Sumter  had  fallen,  and  close 
upon  it  followed  the  orders  for  our  return  home. 


242  OUT    OF   THE    WOODS. 

We  were  to  wait,  however,  for  the  '  Saratoga '  to 
join  us  from  Gibraltar.  The  night  after  she 
reached  port  we  celebrated  our  departure  by 
giving  a  ball  on  board  our  ship.  The  chaplain 
of  the  '  Saratoga,'  Harry  Munson,  had  been  a 
school-mate  of  mine,  and  his  coming  inspired  me 
with  the  idea  that  Margery  and  I  should  be  mar 
ried,  if  the  opportunity  should  occur. 

"  I  saw  Munson  the  afternoon  before  the  ball, 
and  he  consented  to  perform  the  ceremony  if  it 
could  be  done  secretly.  Margery  came  to  the 
ball.  I  begged  her  to  consent  to  the  marriage, 
and  with  reluctance  she  yielded.  At  that  time 
it  was  believed  that  the  rebellion  would  be 
crushed  out  in  a  few  months  at  most,  when  I 
could  return  for  my  bride.  We  waited  until  the 
supper  was  announced  and  all  had  gone  below. 
Ferris,  who  was  officer  of  the  day,  took  care  that 
the  after-deck  was  clear,  and  there  we  were  mar 
ried,  with  him  and  our  boatswain  Dan'l  as  wit 
nesses. 

"  On  the  run  from  Gibraltar  the  'Saratoga'  had 
sprung  her  shaft,  and  the  repairing  of  this  de 
layed  our  departure  some  days.  Fortunately  for 
us,  Margery's  father  had  gone  to  Cintra  to 
spend  a  few  weeks,  as  he  did  periodically,  with 
an  old  surgeon  who  treated  him  for  the  gout, 
from  which  he  suffered  at  times  severely.  In 
these  last  days  we  were  together  constantly. 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  243 

When  the  ship  sailed  I  little  thought  that  I 
should  never  see  her  again." 

Vinton  paused  a  moment,  overcome  with 
emotion;  then,  passing  his  hand  across  his  eyes, 
he  continued : 

"  When  we  reached  New  York  I  found  it  im 
possible  to  get  leave  of  absence,  for  we  were  or 
dered  South  at  once  to  the  scene  of  hostilities. 
Within  four  months  from  the  time  we  left  Lisbon, 
our  ship  had  been  in  as  many  engagements  with 
the  enemy.  In  the  last  of  these  she  was  totally 
disabled  and  abandoned ;  with  a  bad  wound 
on  my  head,  I  was  left  as  dead,  and  was  so  re 
ported.  For  weeks  I  lingered  between  life  and 
death,  my  mind  apparently  hopelessly  gone. 

"When  I  began  to  recover,  I  found  myself  in  a 
Confederate  prison,  and  nearly  five  months  were 
spent  there  before  I  was  exchanged.  God  only 
knows  the  agony  I  suffered  during  those  months. 
I  wrote  to  Margery  at  every  opportunity,  urging 
her  to  bear  up  bravely  until  I  could  come.  In 
all  probability,  none  of  my  letters  reached  her, 
for  no  answer  ever  came.  When  at  last  I  was 
sent  North,  wasted  with  the  starvation  and  ex 
posure  of  prison  life,  I  was  taken  with  typhoid 
fever,  and  three  months  passed  oefore  I  was  able 
to  travel.  Then  I  got  leave  of  absence  and  sailed 
for  Lisbon.  On  arriving  there,  I  found  that 
Edwin  Thome  had  died  during  the  winter.  His 


244  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

house  had  been  sold,  their  old  man-servant  had 
returned  to  England,  and  Margery  had  disap 
peared  two  months  before.  I  spent  weeks  in 
Lisbon  in  the  hope  of  finding  some  clue  to  her 
whereabouts  ;  in  the  end  I  learned  only  that  a 
woman  answering  her  description  had  been  seen 
to  go  out,  with  an  infant,  into  the  harbor  at  night, 
in  a  small  boat,  which  was  discovered  the  day  fol 
lowing  empty  and  adrift.  Beyond  that  my  search 
was  fruitless  ;  but  it  seemed  plain  to  me  that  my 
letters  had  never  reached  her,  and  that,  believing 
herself  betrayed  and  deserted,  she  had  sought 
this  way  of  ending  her  sorrow.  Time  and  again 
since  then  I  have  returned  to  Lisbon,  hoping 
against  hope  that  if  by  any  chance  she  were  alive 
she  might  return;  yet  always  with  the  same  re 
sult —  only  disappointment. 

"  When  I  saw  Madge,  as  I  first  did  the  day  be 
fore  we  came  into  camp,  her  resemblance  to 
her  mother  startled  me.  It  seemed  to  me  in 
credible  that  two  people  not  closely  related  could 
be  so  alike  in  appearance  and  manners,  but  when 
I  learned  that  she  had  relatives  here,  and  under 
stood  that  she  was  a  native  of  Delaware,  I  con 
cluded  that  my  imagination  probably  had  much 
to  do  with  the  resemblance  I  had  found." 

During  the  time  he  had  been  talking,  Vinton 
had  walked  restlessly  back  and  forth.  Now  he 
stopped,  and  handing  the  miniature  and  Madge's 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  245 

photograph  to  Burton,  sank  wearily  into  a  chair 
near  him. 

"Are  they  not  much  alike,  Tom  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  Wonderfully   so,    and    the   portrait   of   the 
mother  is  perfect,  as  I  remember  her  face." 

"  And  did  you  know  her  ?  Oh  !  I  am  glad 
of  that.  Did  she  ever  speak  of  me  ?  Did  she 
think  me  false  to  her  ?"  As  he  spoke,  the 
tears  came  into  his  eyes,  for  with  the  fatigue  of 
the  long  walk  from  camp  and  the  excitement 
through  which  he  had  just  passed,  the  poor  man 
was  utterly  unnerved. 

Ferris  rose  and  laying  his  hand  tenderly  on 
Vinton's  shoulder,  said  to  Burton  : 

"Tell  Uncle  Phil  all  you  have  told  me.  I  am 
going  now  to  the  camp.  You  and  he  can  follow 
in  the  morning.  I  think  it  better  that  I  should 
see  Madge  first." 

"  But  are  you  strong  enough,  Robert,  to 
make  the  journey  to-day?  The  trail  is  not  an 
easy  one,"  Burton  said  anxiously. 

"  Yes  ;  Joe  and  I  will  go  slowly.  It  is  now 
four  o'clock  and  we  should  reach  there  by  eight." 

Crossing  to  the  other  cabin,  Ferris  found  Joe 
and  Adam  busily  engaged  peeling  potatoes. 

"Joe,"  he  said,  "I  have  good  news  for  Miss 
Seaton  that  she  ought  to  know  to-night.  Can 
you  take  me  to  her?" 

Instantly  the  Indian  was  on  his  feet. 


246  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  I  get  you  there  in  three 
hours." 

"  And,  Adam,  will  you  put  up  some  luncheon 
for  us?" 

"  Yes,  sah,  right  away."  And  at  once  the  old 
negro  began  to  busy  himself  with  this,  while  Joe 
made  a  pack  of  his  "  A  "  tent  and  the  blankets  that 
he  had  brought  from  the  camp  in  the  morning. 
Ferris  watched  the  negro  as  he  went  about  his 
work. 

"  You  would  be  sorry  to  lose  Miss  Seaton, 
would  you  not,  Adam  ?"  he  said. 

Adam  looked  at  Ferris  as  if  to  make  sure  of 
his  meaning. 

"  You  ain't  a-going  to  take  her  away  from  us, 
is  you,  Mr.  Ferris  ?  "  he  asked  anxiously. 

"  She  is  to  be  my  wife,  Adam." 

Adam  was  silent  a  moment  as  he  went  on 
with  his  work. 

"  I  reckon  you'll  have  to  take  Mister  Thomas 
and  old  Adam  if  you  take  her,  sah.  We  can't 
git  on  without  her  very  well.  She's  been  our 
chile  so  many  years,"  he  said  sadly. 

"  Nothing  would  please  me  better  than  that," 
Ferris  answered  with  a  smile.  "  Will  you  come 
with  us  ?  " 

"Yes,  sah,  Mister  Thomas  and  I'll  go  where- 
ever  she  goes,  I  reckon,  if  we're  wanted.  I'm 
getting  purty  old,  and  I  ain't  as  good  a  cook 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  247 

as  some.  But  I  kin  larn,  Mr.  Ferris,  I  kin 
larn." 

"  But  what  about  Miss  Burton,  Adam?  Would 
you  leave  her  ?"  Ferris  asked. 

"  No,  sah,  you'll  have  to  take  her  too.  She 
can't  git  on  without  Miss  Madge,  neither." 

"  Then  it  is  settled,  Adam,  that  we  shall  all 
live  together.  I  am  sure  that  it  will  please  Miss 
Seaton  and  her  father,  as  well." 

"  But  she  ain't  got  no  father,  Mr.  Ferris." 

"Oh,  yes,  she  has,  Adam;  Captain  Vinton  is 
her  father." 

The  old  man  dropped  the  loaf  of  bread  he 
was  carefully  slicing.  "  For  the  Lawd's  sake,  is 
that  true  ?  You  ain't  foolin'  old  Adam,  is  you, 
sah  ?  "  he  asked,  his  eyes  wide  with  amazement. 

"  No;  it  is  true.  We  discovered  it  only  to 
day." 

"  For  the  Lawd's  sake,"  the  negro  repeated, 
in  astonishment,  and  after  a  moment's  pause  he 
added  :  "  But  ef  she  had  to  have  a  father,  I 
reckon  there  ain't  no  one  what  would  please 
Mister  Thomas  more'n  the  Captain,  for  Mister 
Thomas  's  taken  a  powerful  likin'  to  him  sence 
he  's  been  here." 

And  as  Ferris  took  the  luncheon  and  went  to 
join  Joe,  he  left  the  old  negro  still  shaking  his 
head  and  exclaiming  at  intervals,  "for  the 
Lawd's  sake." 


248  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

The  sun  was  getting  well  down  below  the 
tops  of  the  taller  pines  when  they  took  the  trail 
for  Round  Lake  camp,  the  Indian  in  advance 
and  going  almost  at  a  dog  trot.  Ferris  followed 
him  in  silence  for  awhile,  but  at  last  was  forced 
to  ask  him  to  slacken  the  pace,  for  he  was  al 
ready  beginning  to  feel  the  effects  of  the  fatigue 
and  strain  through  which  he  had  passed. 

The  darkness  came  quickly  upon  them,  for  the 
sun  had  set  in  a  cloud,  and  time  and  again  the 
Indian  looked  anxiously  at  the  sky,  which  was  be 
coming  overcast. 

"  We  get  storm,"  he  said,  as  he  lighted  the 
lantern  he  carried  in  his  hand.  There  was  not  a 
breath  of  wind  stirring,  and  Ferris  noticed  that 
the  air  was  warmer  than  when  he  rode  through 
the  woods  in  the  moining.  On  they  pushed  as 
fast  as  his  strength  would  permit,  the  ominous 
silence  of  the  approaching  storm  enveloping  the 
woods  like  a  pall.  At  length  the  Indian  stopped, 
and  throwing  down  his  pack,  said  :  "  We  stay 
here  till  storm  go;"  and  cutting  a  sapling  a  few 
feet  above  the  ground,  he  bent  it  down  and  threw 
the  tent  over  it  to  form  a  shelter.  Scarcely  had 
he  done  this  when  there  was  a  noise  like  that  of 
a  ponderous  railway  train  in  the  distance. 
Louder  and  more  distinct  it  grew  each  moment, 
until  the  whole  forest  about  them  was  resonant 
with  the  roar  of  the  coming  storm.  Then  the 


OUT    OF   THE    WOODS.  249 

tops  of  the  trees  began  to  bend  beneath  the 
mighty  sweep  of  the  wind,  and  great  drops  of 
rain  drove  them  under  the  shelter  of  the  tent.  A 
moment  later,  the  water  fell  in  torrents,  and  the 
rush  of  the  wind  driving  the  sheets  of  rain  before 
it  filled  the  forest  with  a  deafening  noise  intensi 
fied  at  intervals  by  a  crash  of  some  great  pine  or 
hemlock,  as  it  yielded  to  the  fury  of  the  elements. 
The  storm  passed  as  quickly  as  it  had  come,  leav 
ing  only  the  sound  of  the  falling  rain  to  break 
the  silence  of  the  night. 

Joe  spread  the  luncheon  and  said  : 

"  Better  eat,  Robert.  Bad  trail  'tween  here 
and  camp." 

But  Ferris  was  too  exhausted  to  be  hungry. 
For  the  first  time  he  realized  how  severely  he 
had  overtaxed  his  strength. 

"  I  am  very  tired,  Joe,"  he  said  wearily,  as  he 
rested  his  head  upon  the  roll  of  blankets.  "  Let 
me  lie  here  a  little  while  and  then  I  can  go  on, 
I  am  sure."  In  a  moment  he  was  fast  asleep. 

Nearly  two  hours  later,  when  the  rain  ceased, 
Joe  shook  him.  Waking  with  a  start,  he  looked 
at  his  watch. 

"  How  I  have  slept !  We  must  hurry  if  we 
are  to  reach  camp  to-night.  It  is  nine  o'clock 
now." 

"Yes,  it  take  over  two  hours.  Can't  go 
through  swamp  after  rain.  Must  go  round." 


25O  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

To  avoid  the  swamp  it  was  necessary  to  make 
a  detour  of  nearly  two  miles  ;  half  this  distance 
was  through  a  burnt-over  windfall,  overgrown 
with  weeds  and  brier  bushes  that  concealed  the 
charred  and  rotten  trunks  lying  about  in  all 
directions.  Over  these  Ferris  stumbled  and 
scrambled,  and  by  the  time  the  trail  was  reached 
he  could  scarcely  drag  one  weary  leg  after  the 
other. 

"Soon  see  camp  now,  Robert,"  the  Indian 
said,  encouragingly,  as  Ferris  leaned  wearily 
against  a  tree.  "  Put  your  arm  on  my  shoulder, 
I  take  you  all  right." 

Ferris  did  as  he  was  bidden  and  together 
they  plodded  on,  until  at  last  he  was  aroused 
somewhat  from  the  stupor  of  exhaustion  by  hear 
ing  Joe  say,  "  Here  we  are.  You  sit  by  fire  and 
rest." 

It  was  nearly  twelve  o'clock,  and,  except  for 
the  occasional  sputtering  of  the  smouldering 
camp  fire,  the  stillness  of  the  night  was  un 
broken. 

Wrapping  a  blanket  around  him  Ferris  drew 
a  camp  chair  close  to  the  fire  and,  after  draining 
the  contents  of  his  pocket  flask,  was  soon  asleep. 
The  faithful  Indian  had  no  intention,  however, 
of  allowing  him  to  spend  the  night  there,  for  the 
air  was  damp  and  chill  ;  so  quietly  placing  a 
few  pieces  of  wood  upon  the  fire  and  throwing 


OUT    OF   THE    WOODS.  251 

a  blanket  over  his  own  shoulders,  he  waited  for 
Ferris  to  awake.  Scarcely  had  he  seated  him 
self  when  Madge  came  from  her  tent  and  hurried 
toward  him. 

"  Is  that  Mr.  Ferris  ?  Is  he  ill  ?"  she  asked, 
anxiously,  in  a  low  tone. 

"Yes,  that  Robert.  He  sleep.  He  very 
tired." 

"  Get  more  wood  for  the  fire,  Joe,  please.  I 
fear  he  will  be  cold." 

While  the  Indian  went  for  the  wood  Madge 
drew  over  Ferris's  knees  the  blanket,  which  had 
slipped  down.  The  movement  awoke  him. 

"  All  right,  Joe,  I  can  go  on  now,"  he  said, 
sleepily. 

"  Are  you  ill,  Robert,  dear,"  Madge  asked 
very  gently. 

Instantly,  at  the  sound  of  her  voice,  his  eyes 
opened  wide  and  for  a  moment  met  her  anxious 
look  with  a  dazed  expression. 

"  Am  I  dreaming,  dearest,  or  is  it  really  you?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  I,  Robert.  Do  not  get  up.  You 
must  be  very  tired.  Oh  !  I  am  so  glad  that 
you  have  come  back.  I  should  have  died  with 
out  you,"  she  said,  taking  his  outstretched  hands 
and  kneeling  on  the  blanket  very  close  to  his 
chair. 

"I  have  brought  good  news,  dearest.  You 
will  be  very  happy.  I  have  found  your  father." 


252  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"  Found  him,  Robert  ?  Do  you  mean  that  he 
is  alive  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  have  seen  him.  Uncle  Phil  knows 
him  well  and  will  tell  you  all  when  he  comes  in 
the  morning.  Is  that  not  enough  for  to-night, 
dearest  ?" 

"  Enough,  indeed,  Robert.     It  means  every 
thing  to  me.     It  means  our  happiness." 

Drawing  her  towards  him,  Ferris  kissed  her 
tenderly  on  the  forehead.  As  he  did  so  Joe  re 
turned  unnoticed  with  the  wood. 

"  Better  go  to  bed,  Robert,"  he  said.     "  You 
get  cold  here." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

4  4  T~)  EALLY,  Tom,  your  lack  of  perception 
_LV  in  affairs  of  the  heart  is  truly  deplor 
able,"  said  Helen  to  Moulton,  as  she  slowly  paid 
out  the  trolling  line  from  the  canoe  that  he  was 
lazily  paddling  along  the  edge  of  the  lily-pads 
and  rushes  near  the  shore  on  the  morning  after 
Ferris's  return  to  the  camp.  The  remark  was  in 
way  of  comment  on  Moulton's  expressions  of 
surprise  that  Madge  had  preferred  to  remain  in 
camp  this  particular  morning  rather  than  join 
them  in  trolling  for  bass  around  the  lake. 

"  Having  made  this  general  observation,  the 
correctness  of  which  I  do  not  question,  would 
you  mind  indicating  its  special  application  ? 
What  particular  stupidity  have  I  been  guilty  of 
now  ?"  replied  Moulton  good  naturedly. 

"  Can't  you  imagine  why  Miss  Seaton  would 
rather  stay  in  camp  this  morning?  To  help  your 
imagination  I  will  remind  you  that  last  night 
she  was  unspeakably  miserable;  this  morning 
you  see  her  radiantly  happy.  Incidentally,  I 
may  mention  that  Mr.  Ferris  came  last  night  and 
she  saw  him.  Is  the  adding  of  two  and  two  to- 
253 


254  OUT   OF   THE    WOODS. 

gether  too  complex  a  problem  for  your  mental 
arithmetic?  If  not,  I  think  I  may  now  trust 
you  to  discover  why  she  preferred  remaining  in 
camp  to  the  pleasure  of  our  society." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  think  Bob 
Ferris  is  in  love?  " 

"Then,  why  did  he  return  here  at  this  time? 
Surely,  not  to  see  Captain  Vinton,  for  he  was 
with  him  yesterday.  Nor  could  it  have  been  for 
the  pleasure  of  camping  with  us,  for  he  knew 
that  we  are  to  break  camp  to-morrow." 

Moulton  puffed  away  at  his  pipe  a  moment 
in  silence,  as  if  trying  to  circumvent  the  logic  of 
her  conclusions. 

"  By  Jove,  Helen,  I  believe  you  are  right. 
Bob  Ferris  in  love!  Oh!  This  is  too  absurd!" 
and  his  hearty  laugh  woke  the  echoes  of  the 
woods. 

"  Does  it  really  strike  you  as  so  very  ridicu 
lous,  that  a  man  should  allow  himself  to  get  in 
that  unhappy  predicament?" 

But  Moulton  did  not  notice  the  coolness  of 
her  manner,  as  he  answered:  "For  Ferris, 
surely.  Of  course  it  is  the  most  natural  thing 
in  the  world  for  a  fellow  like  myself  who  has  al 
ways  been  confessedly  fond  of  women." 

"Oh,  you  have  been,  have  you?"  she  said 
with  a  frigidity  of  tone  that  was  unmistakable. 

"  Now,  Helen,  dear,   do  not  misunderstand 


OUT   OF   THE    WOODS.  255 

me.  Do  not  be  annoyed."  And  Moulton,  lay 
ing  down  his  paddle,  leaned  towards  her,  ex 
tending  his  hand.  At  the  same  instant  there 
was  a  violent  strain  on  the  trolling  line.  Quickly 
she  began  to  pull  it  in  but  found  that  the  hook 
had  simply  fouled  in  the  mass  of  weeds  at  the 
bottom  of  the  lake. 

"  See  what  you  have  done,  careless  fellow," 
she  said,  with  pretended  annoyance.  "  I  thought 
that  I  had  captured  at  least  a  muskallonge,  and 
you  have  allowed  my  hook  to  tangle  in  the  weeds." 

"  Never  mind,  dearest,  I  know  a  beautiful 
spot  on  the  shore  of  the  little  bay  just  ahead, 
where  we  can  disentangle  it — and  any  other 
snarls  due  to  my  thoughtlessness."  And  during 
the  next  two  hours  the  canoe  rested  high  upon 
the  beach,  the  bunch  of  weeds  still  clinging  to 
the  hook,  while  these  two  light-of-hearts  wan 
dered  happily  through  the  shadows  of  the  woods. 

Soon  after  they  had  left  camp,  Ferris  came 
from  Vinton's  tent,  in  which  he  had  slept.  While 
he  was  eating  his  breakfast,  Madge  joined  him 
from  the  shore. 

"  Why  did  you  not  go  with  Miss  Whitney  and 
Moulton?  "he  asked.  "I  heard  them  urging 
you." 

She  hesitated  a  moment  and  a  touch  of  color 
came  to  her  cheek. 

"  The  reason  is  such  a  novel  one  for  me  that 


256  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

I  feel  just  a  trifle  embarrassed  to  give  it,"  she 
replied  with  a  smile,  but  her  eyes  told  him  quite 
as  plainly  as  words,  what  the  reason  was. 

"  It  was  very  good  of  you.  Where  are  Mrs. 
Elting  and  Whitney?  " 

"  Mrs.  Elting  started  sometime  ago  for  one 
of  the  lumber  camps  with  Colonel  Elting  in  his 
buck-board.  He  came  yesterday.  Mr.  Whitney 
is  off  with  Charley  for  the  day,  for  they  took 
luncheon  with  them." 

"  Might  we  not  walk  over  the  trail  and  meet 
Uncle  Phil  and  Dr.  Burton?  " 

"Yes,  if  you  are  not  too  tired  after  your  hard 
tramp  of  yesterday." 

"  Indeed,  I  am  thoroughly  rested  and  never 
felt  better  —  nor  happier  than  now." 

"  Then  we  will  go.  But  do  you  think  that  they 
will  come  by  the  trail  and  not  by  the  river? 
Uncle  Tom  will  know  that  the  trail  through  the 
marsh  will  be  bad  after  last  evening's  storm." 

"  That  is  true.  It  had  not  occurred  to  me. 
No  doubt  they  will  come  by  the  river,  and  we 
can  wait  for  them  at  the  rapids." 

As  they  walked  together  over  the  familiar  way, 
Ferris  said: 

"  You  little  thought,  Madge  dear,  when  we 
first  came  up  this  path  together,  less  than  a 
month  ago,  what  a  burden  you  were  bringing 
into  your  life." 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  257 

"No,  I  did  not  think  of  it  in  quite  that  way,  I 
confess,  Robert,"  she  answered  gently.  "And 
yet  I  felt  even  then  that  you  had  come  into  my 
life  as  no  one  ever  had  before.  When  I  was  a 
very  little  girl,  I  used  to  watch  the  wreckers  on 
the  Delaware  coast  gathering  wreckage  on  the 
beach  after  a  storm.  Whatever  they  found  they 
claimed  as  theirs  from  the  fact  that  they  had 
found  it.  Perhaps  that  is  why  I  felt  that  you 
were  mine  from  the  first." 

"And  yet  you  would  have  given  me  up?" 
"  Yes,  for  your  sake  my  love  would  have  been 
equal  to  that  sacrifice,  even.  I  wonder  if  you 
will  ever  know  what  your  going  away  meant  tome. 
You  went  in  hope,  but  left  me  in  despair.  What 
a  mistake  is  the  saying  of  the  Good  Book: 
'  Greater  love  hath  no  man  than  this,  that  a  man 
lay  down  his  life  for  his  friends.'  But  that 
is  all  past  now,  Robert,  and  we  must  not  think 
of  it  again.  Tell  me  of  him  —  of  my  father." 

The  question  came  so  suddenly  that  for  a 
moment  Ferris  was  embarrassed  for  an  answer. 
Madge  noticed  this,  and  misunderstanding  its 
meaning,  said:  "You  told  me  last  night  that 
you  knew  him.  Is  he  such  a  one  as  you  would 
be  sorry  to  call  '  father?  '  ' 

Instantly  the  answer  came  irresistibly: 
"  Madge,  dear,  he  is  the  purest,  the  best  man 
I  have  ever  known." 


258  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"  Surely  you  will  except  dear  Uncle  Phil?  " 

"  No,  I  cannot  except  him,  dearest,  because 
Uncle  Phil  —  is — your  father."  As  he  spoke 
Ferris  took  her  hands  and  held  them  fast.  For 
a  moment  she  trembled  with  emotion  and  as  she 
looked  earnestly,  pleadingly,  into  his  eyes,  her 
own  filled  with  tears. 

"  Is  God,  indeed,  so  good  to  me  ?  " 
"  Yes,  darling,  to  us  both.     Could  happiness 
be  greater  than  this  ?" 

But  for  answer,  Madge  leaned  her  head  on  his 
breast,  and  his  strong  arms  held  her  tenderly 
while  the  tears  of  joy  came  fast. 

So  slowly  did  they  walk  along  the  river  bank, 
stopping  now  to  admire  some  especially  beauti 
ful  vista  of  coloring  brought  unexpectedly  to 
view  by  a  sudden  bend  of  the  stream,  or  again 
to  select  rare  tints  of  brown  or  gold  or  crimson 
from  the  autumn  harvest,  that  it  was  noon  when 
they  reached  the  rapids.  From  this  point  the 
view  upstream  was  unbroken  for  several  hundred 
yards,  and  here  they  waited  the  coming  of  Bur 
ton  and  Vinton. 

Ferris  briefly  told  Madge  of  his  journey  east, 
omitting  his  own  mental  suffering  and  its  cause. 
When  he  mentioned  the  miniatures  and  how 
closely  she  resembled  her  mother,  her  face  was 
radiant. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  the  happiness  it  gives  me 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  259 

to  know  that  I  look  like  her.  He  loved  her  so 
dearly  that  I  am  sure  he  must  love  me  for  her 
sake,  Robert.  Day  before  yesterday,  when  he 
went  to  meet  you  at  Uncle  Tom's,  he  asked  me 
to  walk  part  way  with  him.  We  had  decided  to 
break  camp  to-morrow,  and  it  seemed  uncertain 
whether  he  would  return  to  us  or  not.  As  we 
parted  he  took  both  my  hands  in  his.  '  Madge ' 
he  said,  '  you  must  let  me  come  to  see  you  some 
times.  Your  companionship  has  been  a  great 
happiness  to  me  in  the  past  month.  I  have  come 
to  think  of  you  almost  as  if  you  were  my  own 
child;'  and  his  voice  was  scarcely  audible,  as  he 
added  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  'you  are  the  image 
of  one  whom  I  have  loved  always.'  And  what 
do  you  think  I  did,  Robert  ?  I  took  his  dear 
face  in  my  hands  and  kissed  him  on  the  forehead." 

While  they  were  talking  thus,  the  moments 
flying  as  lovers'  moments  will,  the  canoe  with 
Burton  and  Vinton  appeared  at  the  bend  of  the 
river  above  the  rapids.  Burton  was  paddling 
and  Vinton  sat  near  the  bow.  Neither  saw  Madge 
and  Ferris. 

"  Hold  on,  Tom,"  said  Vinton,  cheerily,  as 
they  neared  the  swift  water,  "  I  am  too  valuable 
a  cargo  for  you  to  risk  in  the  rapids." 

"  Shame  on  you,  Philip,"  replied  Burton,  with 
a  laugh,  as  he  turned  the  boat  to  the  shore. 
"And  you  an  old  sailor,  too.  However,  the 


26O  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

walk  to  camp  is  a  short  one  and  will  give  us  a 
chance  to  straighten  out.  We  should  not  have 
needed  it  twenty  years  ago." 

"  Let  us  help  these  two  elderly  gentlemen  " 
said  Ferris  to  Madge,  loud  enough  to  be  heard 
by  them  as  the  canoe  touched  the  shore  almost 
at  their  feet. 

Madge  held  the  boat  while  Ferris  assisted 
first  Vinton  and  then  Burton,  for  both  were  some 
what  stiff  after  the  long  ride  ;  then  lifting  the 
bow  upon  the  shore  she  turned  to  Vinton.  Once 
again  she  kissed  him — this  time  on  the  lips.  Was 
it  this  or  the  whispered  "  father  "  that  brought 
the  tears  to  his  eyes,  as  he  held  her  fast  in  his 
arms  and  bowing  his  head  close  to  hers,  sobbed: 
"  Margery,  Margery  —  at  last,  my  love." 

Madge's  face  was  pale  as  she  gave  both  hands 
and  an  affectionate  kiss  to  Burton,  while  Vinton, 
by  a  vigorous  use  of  his  handkerchief,  endeav 
ored  to  demonstrate  that  he  was  merely  troubled 
with  a  sudden  influenza. 

"  Dear  Uncle  Tom,"  she  said,  "  I  shall  love 
you  only  the  more  for  all  that  has  come  to  me." 

Burton  was  of  sterner  stuff  than  Vinton,  but 
his  voice  quavered,  as  he  answered  :  "  Yes,  child, 
you  must  keep  a  place  for  me." 

Ferris  and  he,  leaving  Madge  and  Vinton  to 
follow,  went  on  to  camp  where  they  found  Helen 
and  Moulton  at  luncheon.  As  Moulton  caught 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  26 1 

sight  of  Ferris,  he  rushed  to  meet  him  and  even 
the  cautionary  "  remember,  Tom,"  from  Helen, 
could  not  prevent  his  exclaiming  :  "  Bob,  you 
old  humbug,  I  congratulate  you,  I  may  also  say 
that  I  sympathize  with  you  for  I  —  " 

"Mr.  Moulton  !"  called  Helen  sharply,  with 
affected  severity. 

"All  right,  Helen,  I  forgot  that  I  was  not  to 
announce  our  engagement.  But  pray  do  it 
quickly,  for  I  cannot  keep  the  secret  any  longer. 
The  mental  strain  is  really  too  great." 

"  I  can't  see  that  you  have  left  anything  for 
me  to  announce,"  replied  Helen,  coloring,  as 
she  gave  her  hand  warmly  to  Ferris  and  Burton. 
"  I  hope  that  I  may  congratulate  you,  also  Mr. 
Ferris." 

"  Indeed  you  can,  Miss  Whitney,  for  I  feel 
that  I  am  a  most  fortunate  fellow." 

During  luncheon  Helen  and  Moulton  were 
told  of  the  newly  discovered  relationship  be 
tween  Madge  and  Vinton.  An  hour  later  when 
Moulton  was  urging  Helen  to  go  for  a  last  ride 
on  the  lake,  for  Burton  and  Ferris  had  strolled 
off  together,  she  put  an  end  to  all  argument  by 
saying : 

"  No,  go  without  me.  I  must  wait  for  Madge 
—  I  am  simply  dying  to  get  my  arms  about  the 
dear  girl's  neck.  You  are  a  man  and  of  course 
don't  understand  such  things." 


262  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"  Well,  don't  I  ?  With  half  an  opportunity, 
Helen  dearest,  I  think  I  could  convince  you  of 
the  contrary." 

"Tom  Moulton,  you  are  simply  horrid,"  she 
answered,  blushing  deeply.  "  Now  go,  or  I  shall 
not  speak  to  you  again  to-day." 

Some  time  after,  when  he  returned  to  camp, 
he  found  Madge  and  Helen  sitting  together  in  a 
hammock  with  one  shawl  around  them  both  and 
with  heads  very  close  together.  Helen  was 
right.  Only  a  woman  could  comprehend  their 
feelings. 

Shortly  before  dinner  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Elt- 
ing  drove  into  camp,  and  the  little  woman's  de 
light  at  the  confidences  with  which  Helen  and 
Madge  flooded  her  was  simply  boundless.  The 
Colonel  took  matters  more  philosophically. 

"  I  have  been  urging  Dora,"  he  said,  "  for 
years,  to  come  into  the  woods.  There  is  no  such 
place  for  romance,  even  for  an  old  couple  like 
ourselves.  I  am  sure  I  have  not  driven  with  my 
arm  around  her  waist  in  twenty  years  before  !  " 

"  But  you  know,  George,  the  road  was  very 
rough,"  she  replied,  apologetically. 

"  And  was  that  why  you  kissed  me  just  be 
fore  we  reached  camp?  Come,  now,  admit 
that  it  was  the  woods  !  " 

But  for  answer  she  only  shook  her  head  in 
mock  severity. 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  263 

The  dinner  was  delayed  somewhat,  to  await 
the  arrival  of  Whitney,  whose  triumphant  yell 
from  across  the  lake  announced  that  his  day's 
hunt  had  not  been  without  success,  and  a  few 
minutes  later  he  appeared,  bearing  upon  his 
shoulders  (a  burden  too  precious  for  the  Indian 
to  carry)  the  skin  of  the  long-coveted  bear. 

No  happier  party  ever  met  beneath  spreading 
pine  and  hemlock  than  that  gathered  at  this 
last  dinner  at  Round  Lake  Camp.  Even  old 
Dan'l  had  caught  the  spirit  of  gladness,  and 
gave  evidence  of  the  fact  by  the  elaborateness 
of  his  menu,  while  Charley  and  Joe  made  such  a 
camp-fire  as  cast  in  shadow  all  their  previous 
efforts  in  this  direction.  Around  this  the  early 
part  of  the  evening  was  passed  in  much  the 
same  way  as  most  evenings  are  in  camp  —  a 
sameness  that  to  the  lover  of  camp  life  is  never 
monotonous.  Later,  Vinton  and  Colonel  Elting 
discovered  that  they  both  had  taken  part  in  the 
siege  of  Vicksburg,  and  their  war  experiences 
claimed  attention  for  a  while.  Then  Moulton 
tuned  his  banjo  and  sang  some  negro  melodies 
in  a  dialect  that  Burton  assured  him  would 
have  done  credit  to  old  Adam.  When  he  had 
finished,  Madge  asked  Vinton  to  sing  the  old 
Spanish  boat  song  he  had  given  them  once 
before. 

"  I   can    not  tell   you    how  that  simple  old 


264  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

song  affects  me.  It  seems  like  an  echo  of  music 
that  I  knew  long  ago,"  she  said  gently  to  him. 

"I  am  glad  you  like  it,  Madge,"  he  answered. 
"  It  was  your  mother's  favorite  song." 

As  he  finished,  he  saw  old  Dan'l  listening  in 
the  shadow  beyond  the  fire. 

"Come  here,  Dan'l,"  he  called,  "I  wish  to 
speak  to  you  !  " 

And  as  Dan'l  came  nearer,  smoothing  out  his 
apron,  which  he  had  knotted  about  his  waist,  he 
added  :  "  Dan'l,  did  you  ever  see  any  one  who 
looked  like  Miss  Madge?" 

Dan'l  hesitated  a  moment,  as  if  in  doubt 
whether  Vinton  wished  him  to  speak  the  truth 
or  not ;  and  he  would  have  done  either  with 
equal  readiness  for  him. 

"  Come,  speak  out,  Dan'l,  and  mind  that  you 
tell  the  truth." 

"  Yes,  sor  ;  one  lady,  sor,  if  me  old  eyes 
serve  me." 

"Where  was  it,  Dan'l?" 

"  It  was  in  Lisbon  harbor,  sor,  some  twenty- 
six  years  ago,  when  I  was  boatswain  of  the 
'  Macedonian. ' ' 

"  Well,  go  on  ;  tell  all  you  remember  about 
her." 

"Shall  I  speak  of  the  night  of  the  grand  ball, 
sor?" 

"  Yes,    everything,    Dan'l.      You  have  kept 


OUT    OF   THE    WOODS.  265 

my  secret  well ;  but  it  shall  be  a  secret  no 
longer." 

"Well,  sor,  if  I  must,  I  must.  The  young 
lady,  whose  speaking  image  sits  beside  ye,  came 
on  the  after-deck  with  yerself  and  Liftenant 
Ferris  and  the  parson  from  the  '  Saratoga; '  and 
the  parson  read  from  his  church  book  and  then 
called  ye  man  and  wife.  And  the  young  lady 
kissed  ye  and  the  parson  and  Liftenant  Ferris, 
and  gave  me  a  bracelet  she  wore  on  her  arm, 
and  I  have  it  yet.  That's  all,  sor,  saving  the 
week's  jugging  I  got  fer  leaving  me  post  mid 
ships  without  notice." 

"  Miss  Madge  is  the  lady's  daughter,  Dan'l, 
and  my  child." 

"  God  help  me,  Captain  !  Ye  don  't  mean 
it,  sor,"  and  the  old  fellow  forgetting  his  em 
barrassment,  came  very  close  to  Madge. 

"This  be  the  happiest  day  of  me  life,  Miss," 
he  continued.  "  I  have  been  hoping  since  I 
set  eyes  on  ye  that  the  Captain  might  win  ye  for 
his  bride,  for  it's  a  poor  house  we  have,  Miss, 
with  no  women  folks  at  all.  What  an  old  fool  I 
be,  to  be  sure.  But  we'll  have  ye  now  anyway, 
so  we  will." 

"  You  will  have  to  ask  Mr.  Ferris  about  that, 
Dan'l.  They  are  engaged  to  be  married,"  Vin- 
ton  answered,  with  a  smile. 

"  O  my  !    O   my  !     And   ye  're   engaged  at 


266  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

last,  Master  Robert.  Sure,  I  never  suspected  ye 
of  it  and  ye  've  not  been  keeping  company  at 
all.  Well,  Miss,"  he  continued,  turning  again 
to  Madge,  "ye  have  the  foinest  father  and  best 
husband  in  the  world,  so  ye  have."  And  Dan'l 
went  back  to  the  cook's  tent,  and  for  an  hour 
after  was  heard  humming  that  sweet  old  Irish 
melody,  "The  Low-back  Car." 

****** 

Breaking  camp  is  always  a  dismal  affair,  but 
in  this  case  Colonel  Elting  had  robbed  it  of  one 
most  dismal  feature,  by  arranging  that  the  tents 
should  be  left  standing  until  after  the  party  had 
gone,  when  his  men  from  the  nearest  lumber 
camp  would  pack  and  send  them  to  the  town. 
At  Ferris'  request  Madge  and  Vinton  decided 
that  they  would  return  with  him  by  way  of  Keat 
ing,  spending  one  night  at  Burton's  cabins.  The 
Eltings,  with  Helen  and  Moulton,  drove 
away  soon  after  breakfast.  Whitney,  with 
unsated  fondness  for  sport,  had  gone  ahead 
with  his  shot-gun  some  time  before  in  the 
hope  of  finding  a  few  partridges  basking 
in  the  morning  sun  along  the  road.  From  his 
seat  beside  Helen  the  incorrigible  Moulton 
called  to  Ferris  as  they  drove  off :  "I  shall  see 
you  at  the  Club  day  after  to-morrow,  Bob,  and 
arrange  for  your  services  as  best  man,  if  I 
can  wait  so  long  !  " 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  267 

"  You  had  better  remember  the  old  adage, 
sir,  'Don't  crow  until  you  are  out  of  the 
woods,' "  said  Helen. 

"  I  shall  not,"  he  answered,  and  in  a  lower 
tone  added:  "I  have  been  out  of  the  woods, 
dear,  ever  since  you  told  me—  '  but  as  she 
raised  her  finger  warningly,  he  left  the  sentence 
unfinished.  And  taking  Moulton  at  his  word, 
we  may  safely  leave  these  happy  lovers,  in  the 
assurance  that  the  world,  which  loves  a  lover,  will 
give  them  of  its  best. 

An  hour  later  Vinton  and  Burton,  with  the 
Indians  and  Dan'l,  started  for  the  cabins,  leaving 
Madge  and  Ferris  to  follow  and  meet  them  at 
luncheon  beyond  the  swamp. 

The  walk  to  the  cabins  with  Madge  was  for 
Ferris  a  joyous  contrast  to  his  last  journey 
over  the  trail,  and  when  they  gathered  that 
evening  in  Burton's  room,  he  felt  that  life 
could  offer  him  no  greater  happiness  than  the 
present. 

The  start  for  Keating  was  not  made  until 
after  luncheon  the  next  day,  as  Joe  had  gone 
early  in  the  morning  to  get  horses  for  Vinton, 
Madge  and  Dan'l,  and  to  notify  John  Brent  of 
their  coming.  As  they  neared  the  town  Ferris 
checked  his  horse  a  moment,  and,  looking  back 
down  the  long  vista  of  pines  through  which  the 
old  logging  road  ran,  said  with  a  half  sigh  : 


268  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"  I  am  sorry,  Madge  dear,  to  leave  the  woods. 
They  have  given  me  happiness  beyond  any  I 
ever  dreamed  of." 

"  I  have  loved  them  always,  Robert ;  but 
never  so  much  as  now.  We  will  come  again, 
will  we  not  ?" 

"Yes,  we  will  come  together.  They  would 
never  be  the  same  without  you,  Madge." 

"  If  Moulton  could  only  have  heard  that 
speech,"  thought  Ferris,  "  how  he  would  have 
jeered  at  me." 

At  Keating  they  found  that  Brent  had  ar 
ranged  for  sleepers  on  the  night  express  and 
that  Mrs.  Brent  had  prepared  a  delicious  supper 
for  them. 

They  had  finished  this,  and  the  men,  with 
the  exception  of  Brent,  who  had  excused 
himself  on  the  ground  of  business,  were  smoking 
before  the  open  fire,  when  there  occurred  the  last 
incident  that  need  be  recorded  in  these  pages. 
Madge  was  standing  at  the  window  looking 
down  the  long  road  that  stretched  away  to  the 
town,  absorbed  in  watching  a  great  number  of 
lights  that,  after  flickering  to  and  fro  like  will-o- 
the  wisps,  began  at  last  to  move  in  a  body 
toward  the  mine.  "  These  are  the  men  that  come 
to  work  in  the  mine  at  night,"  she  thought, 
until  the  low  rumble  of  voices  peculiar  to  an  ap 
proaching  rabble,  reached  her  ear.  Ferris  also 


OUT    OF    THE    WOODS.  269 

heard  it,  although  less  distinctly,  and  asked : 
"What  is  that  noise,  Madge?" 

"  A  large  number  of  men  are  coming  this 
way,  Robert,  with  lanterns  and  torches.  Do  they 
always  make  such  noise  when  they  go  to  work  ?" 

Instantly  he  was  at  her  side.  Scarcely  five 
hundred  yards  from  where  they  stood  and  mov 
ing  rapidly  toward  them,  was  a  vast  crowd  of 
people  with  lanterns  and  torches  of  pine  knots, 
which  they  flourished  above  their  heads  as  they 
hurried  on. 

Turning  to  Ferris,  Madge  was  struck  by  his 
pallor. 

"  What  does  this  mean,  Robert  ?  Surely 
there  is  nothing  wrong  ?  "  she  asked  anxiously. 

"I  trust  not,  dear.  But  pray  go  into  the 
back  room.  I  shall  know  in  a  few  minutes." 

"  And  leave  you  ?    Never,  Robert." 

"And  this  is  their  revenge,"  thought  Ferris, 
although  he  did  not  speak  it  for  fear  of  alarming 
Madge.  Burton  and  Vinton  now  joined  them 
and  they  stood  a  moment  in  silence. 

"  Have  we  any  weapons,  Tom  ?"  Ferris  asked 
quickly. 

Burton  paused  an  instant  and  then  answered 
with  a  smile : 

"  You  are  armed  sufficiently  for  this  crowd. 
You  have  a  good  pair  of  lungs  and  a  reasonably 
strong  voice.  That  is  all  they  need.  Don't  you 


27O  OUT    OF    THE    WOODS. 

see  the  women  and  children,  Robert,  and  can't 
you  imagine  why  they  are  coming  ?  " 

In  a  moment  the  meaning  of  it  all  flashed 
upon  Ferris  and  he  blushed  crimson.  The  crowd 
now  gathered  about  the  broad  veranda  and  the 
voices  were  hushed.  A  little  fellow  with  cap  in 
hand  was  pushed  forward  and  timidly  came  up 
the  steps.  It  was  Willie,  the  mail  boy,  and  he 
said  that  the  men  would  like  to  see  Mr.  Ferris 
before  he  took  the  train. 

"  Go  out  and  give  them  a  speech,  Robert; 
that  is  what  they  want,"  said  Burton,  pushing 
Ferris  toward  the  door. 

"But  what  can  I  say  ?" 

"Oh,  anything  will  please  them.  You  need 
not  be  eloquent." 

What  he  did  say  (although  he  never  could  re 
member)  must  have  pleased  them,  for  he  was 
constantly  interrupted  by  applause  and  cries  of 
"Hear,  Hear"  and  "Good"  in  a  dozen  different 
languages. 

As  he  finished,  an  old  Scotch  woman  with  a 
shawl  about  her  kindly  work-worn  face,  asked  : 
"Mayn't  we  see  yir  lady,  sir?  We'ill  luve  her 
for  the  maister's  sake." 

Ferris  turned,  and  Madge  came  quickly  to 
his  side. 

"And  I  will  love  you  all,  good  people,  be 
cause  you  love  him." 


RECENT  PUBLICATIONS 

OF 

A.  C  McCLURG  &  CO. 


Europe  in  Africa  in  the  Nineteenth  Century. 

By  ELIZABETH  WORMELEY  LATIMER.  Handsomely  illus 
trated  with  twenty-three  full-page  half-tone  portraits.  8vo, 
456  pages,  £2.50. 

The  province  of  this  industrious  author  is  in  making  up  the  summary 
of  the  world's  history  in  the  nineteenth  century.  She  is  neither  a  philoso 
pher  nor  a  prophet  in  her  histories.  She  treats  of  vast  subjects  and 
covers  large  areas  of  events  in  an  admirably  condensed  and  simple  style. 
.  .  .  She  presents  facts  clearly,  briefly,  and  accurately,  with  sufficient 
touches  of  graphic,  vivid  writing  to  color  and  inform  the  narrative.— 
The  Ledger,  Philadelphia. 

Recollections  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  1847-1865. 

By  WARD  HILL  LAMON.  Edited  by  Dorothy  Lamon.  With 
two  portraits  and  fac-simile  letters.  lamo,  286  pages,  £1.50. 

...  It  is  the  most  reliable  of  books  that  has  come  into  our  hands, 
aside  from  the  fact  that  it  gives  us  such  a  grand  conception  of  the  man. 
It  is  only  lack  of  space  that  prevents  our  going  more  into  particulars,  and 
from  quoting  largely;  but  then  we  should  be  handicapped  by  such  a 
wealth  of  material,  we  should  be  lost  where  to  begin.  —  Boston  Times. 

A  Child  of  Tuscany. 

By  MARGUERITE  BOUVET.  Illustrated  by  Will  Phillip 
Hooper.  Square  410,  207  pages,  $1.50. 

.  .  .  The  story  is  written  with  that  elegant  simplicity  and  pure  senti 
ment  that  characterizes  Miss  Bouvet's  style,  and  wins  her  readers  to 
goodness  by  making  it  as  it  is  —  beautiful.  —  Cleveland  World. 

Beatrice  of  Bayou  Teche. 

By  ALICE  ILGENFRITZ  JONES.     i2mo,  386  pages,  $1.25. 

The  book  has  no  dull  chapters.  —  The  Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 
OCTAVE  THANET  says:   A  capital  story,  full  of  vigor  and  subtle 
knowledge,  and  it  is  vivid  and  picturesque  as  the  Bayou. 

The  Journal  of  Countess  Francoise  Krasinska  in 
the  Eighteenth  Century. 

Translated  by  KASHMIR  DZIEKONSKA.  With  portrait  and 
other  illustrations.  i6mo,  gilt  top,  deckel  edges,  $1.25. 

Not  for  a  long  time  have  we  seen  so  entertaining  a  book  as  this.  It 
gives,  with  charming  naivete,  a  picturesque  account  of  high  life  in  Poland 
at  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  —  a  life  still  pervaded  by  feudal  tradi 
tions  and  customs.  —  The  Nation,  New  York. 


Life  and  Love. 

By  MARGARET  W.  MORLEY.     Illustrated,     izmo,  $1.25. 

Margaret  Warner  Morley  has  written  in  "  Life  and  Love  "  a  book 
which  should  be  placed  in  the  hands  of  every  young  mar.  and  woman. 
It  is  a  fearless  yet  clean-minded  study  of  the  development  of  life  and 
the  relations  thereof  from  the  protoplasm  to  mankind.  The  work  is 
logical,  instructive,  impressive.  It  should  result  in  the  innocence  of 
knowledge,  which  is  better  than  the  innocence  of  ignorance.  It  is  a  pleas 
ure  to  see  a  woman  handling  so  delicate  a  topic  so  well.  Miss  Morley 
deserves  thanks  for  doing  it  so  impeccably.  Even  a  prude  can  find  noth 
ing  to  carp  at  in  the  valuable  little  volume.  —  Boston  Journal. 

No.  49  Tinkham  Street. 

By  C.  EMMA  CHENEY,  author  of  "  Young  Folks'  History  of 
the  Civil  War,"  etc.     I2mo.     267  pages,  jjSi.oo. 

A  spirited  little  story  of  very  human  characters  among  the  struggling 
poor.  The  tale  is  not  without  its  touches  of  humor  and  pathos,  and 
amply  repays  its  perusal. 

When  Charles  the  First  was  King. 

A  Romance  of  Osgoldcross,  1632-1649.   ByJ.S.  FLETCHER. 

i2mo,  418  pages,  $1.50. 

The  story  is  capitally  told.  The  descriptions  are  alert  and  vivid. 
There  are  a  number  of  taking  battle-pieces,  as  for  instance  that  of  Marston 
Moor.  Taken  all  in  all,  "When  Charles  the  First  was  King"  is  pood, 
bluff,  honest  fiction,  and  you  will  read  it  to  the  last  page.  —  The  Com 
mercial  Advertiser,  New  York. 

Men  tic-nit  ure  ;  or,  the  A,  B,  C  of  True  Living. 

By  HORACE  FLETCHER.     i2mo,  145  pages,  $1.00. 

The  author  has  performed  his  task  well,  and  put  his  case  intelligibly 
before  any  class  of  readers  who  are  to  be  benefited.  This  is  the  charm 
of  the  little  book,  —  an  interesting  theory  interestingly  set  forth.  It  has 
commanded  the  respect  of  men  of  wisdom,  and  goes  forth  to  the  great 
public  as  the  best  of  counsel  from  a  thoughtful  and  sincere  man.  — 
Evening  Post,  Chicago. 

The  Child's  Garden  of  Song. 

Selected    and    arranged  by  WILLIAM   L.    TOMLINS.     With 
beautiful  colored  designs  by  Ella  Ricketts.     Quarto,  $2.00. 

There  are  songs  calculated  to  interest  and  delight  every  instinct,  every 
ambition,  and  every  phase  of  childhood,  —  songs  about  morning-glories, 
Christmas,  pussy-willows,  the  birds,  rainbow  fairies,  the  carpenter,  the 
miller,  the  mice,  the  shoemaker,  the  stars,  etc.  Why,  the  book  actually 
sings  itself;  and  its  music  should  be  a  solace  to  age  as  well  as  a  joy  to 
youth.  —  EUGENE  FIELD,  in  Chicago  Record. 


For  sale  by  booksellers  generally,  or  will  be  sent,  postpaid, 
on  receipt  of  the  price,  by  tbe  publishers, 

A.  C  McCLURG  &  CO.,  Chicago. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


20m-7,'67(H3149s4) 


DO   NOT    REMOVE 
TH5S    BOOK  CARD 


University  Research  Library 


